Ore no Gakuen
by AphroditeLove
Summary: AU, yaoi and het pairings. An interesting twist to the world of AU...would you like Ryou, Marik, Bakura, Touzoku or Malik to be YOUR teacher? Humor, angst, fluff, and more. Deathshipping, Thiefshipping, and others.
1. Chapter 1

Ore no Gakuen (My School)

Chapter One: Meet the Teachers

Once upon a time, there was a school. A boarding school, no less. It was divided up between the boys dormitory and the girls dormitory. At this particular school, it prided itself in its outstanding achievement of the academics, arts, and sports. It had a strong English and Math program, a beautiful orchestra, and a kick-ass basketball team.

But, as perhaps like all schools, each subject had its opposite: Science with Social, Art with Music, and of course, Math and English.

So it wasn't surprising that the young teachers at this prestigeous school did not quite know each other. In fact, both the Math and English novice teachers hadn't even met before. And just coincidentally, both the Math and English teachers were bachelors.

* * *

English Class,

3:14 PM.

Ryou Whyte looked up at the bell. He blinked at it with a slightly surprised expression on his face.

"Well - time does fly by," he said, smiling mildly as he closed his book. "Alright. Just a reminder, your reports on _Twelfth Night_ are due Monday. If you have any questions or concerns, please stop a letter in my office or send me an e-mail." Ryou looked up at his class; thirty young faces of middle-school girls looked back at him. This was his only all-girl class - their previous teacher had left abrupty for a maternity leave and there was only one other teacher who had a spare at the same time. So Professor Ryou Whyte, age twenty three, was stuck with this class.

Not that the girls minded...

They all got up at the bell, shuffling their chairs into their desks and packing up their books. As they began to file out, each one twittered a shy "Goodbye, Professor Whyte" or a "Have a good weekend." As the last few girls began to dwindle away, a little one with thick braids and large, round glasses came up to Ryou's desk. He looked up from his own packing and faced the girl with his usual, gentle smile.

"Yes, Maddy?"

The small, thirteen year old girl with the thick braids flushed a faint pink. Hearing their Professor's voice, the last few girls (taller than Maddy, mind) all turned around to see what was going on. Jealous gapes and envious sighs chorused when Maddy slowly held out a gift-wrapped package, extremely red in the face and unable to look at Professor Whyte.

Ryou blinked, an adorably cute gesture with his wide, brown eyes. He looked at the package.

"Maddy..."

"It's for you," Maddy said, in a squeaky voice. She bit her lip, bowing her head to stifle a giggle. "I...er...I heard it was your birthday soon..."

Again, Ryou blinked. He was about to say something when Maddy jumped forward and shoved the package at him. "It's for you!" she said very quickly, blushing furiously but looking very bashful and happy at the same time. "Happy Birthday, Professor Whyte!"

Without another word, Maddy grabbed her books and ran off out of the door. The other girls gawked and suddenly began talking among themselves. They all looked back to Professor Whyte, who was staring at them like as if they were total enigmas, and on cue, the rest of the girls chorused "Goodbye, Professor Whyte!" and disappeared faster than a pack of bulls out the door.

Ryou was left alone, with the package. Looking at it skeptically, he uncertainly untied the red ribbon and took a peek under the lid - chocolate.

Slowly, Ryou closed the package. He stared at it a little bit, looking totally befuddled.

"My birthday isn't for another _month_ yet..."

* * *

Mathematics Class

3:20 PM

(-scribble- 15:30 PM by 24:00 clock!)

"And so," the teacher said patiently, slowly but strictly drawing out a tangent line. "Based on the tangency radii theorem, you'll get the equal tangence theorem...does that make any sense?"

The student being tutored, little black-haired Kazuhiro slowly nodded his head. But the professor instantly noted the gazed look and tapped his pencil sharply. Kazuhiro quickly snapped out of it.

"No sir," Kazuhiro admitted. "I still don't get it."

The dark amethyst eyes looked at him cynically, and Kazuhiro felt himself feeling quite ashamed at not admitting that he did not understand. But who could blame him, after all?

Nearly all the boys at Westhall school admired the Egyptian mathematics teacher. He was tall, handsomely built and strong. His skin was a healthy, luscious tan, and his eyes were a unique yet awesome shade of amethyst. His golden hair was spiked into the air ('naturally', he claimed, for the nth number of times he had been asked.) and he was always immacuately and pratically dressed. He always wore a white shirt that fitted his built chest nicely with a dark black tie, tanned khaki pants and black shoes. One certain occasions he would dress deferently - Awards night he wore his custom-made tuxedo, Sports Day he'd wear a blank muscle shirt instead of his white shirt.

He was disciplined, strict, and confident. He was aloof and emotionally unjarred. He was the epitome of man, radiating manliness for hundred thousand meters radius. He had a charm about him, that manly charm that boys wished to possess, as many of the female teachers swooned at his presence.

Plus, he was the only professor in school who wore a shirt and tie but owned the damnest, hottest _motorbike _on this side of England.

Professor Ishtar sighed the quietest of sighs, and handed Kazuhiro a sheet of formulas and proofs. "Do you understand these?"

Kazuhiro looked at the sheet, and recognized them as the simpler questions. "Yes sir."

Professor Ishtar nodded. "Do the ones on the back tonight, and come see me on Monday." Kazuhiro looked up at Professor Ishtar's tutoring schedule - and realized that Fridays weren't usually open. Immediately Kazuhiro felt ashamed again, but Professor Ishtar helped him hedge that feeling by sliding him two more sheets of homework.

"I'm positive that with a little more practice, you will understand it by Monday," Professor Ishtar said. He stood up from his wheelly chair (the boys all debated if in his spare time, Professor Ishtar would spin around in it to feel less tense) and picked up his briefcase and leather coat. "If you still don't understand, e-mail me and we'll arrange some tutoring time before the test. Understood?"

Kazuhiro's eyes widened, and he nodded excitedly. "Thank you, Professor Ishtar!"

The professor merely waved a hand. "Yeah yeah. Get going."

Smiling brightly, Kazuhiro picked up his school bag and bowed at the waist (a custom that only Kazuhiro did, because he was Japanese and everyone else at Westhall was of different cultural background). Professor Ishtar said nothing, and watched as the boy say goodbye again, and leave with a bright smile on his face.

Marik rolled his eyes and slid his chair into the desk, which was empty. There were no family pictures, no baby pictures, and no spouse or affectionate letter from an admirer. The desk was clean and empty. "Kids." Then he headed out the door.

* * *

3:30PM

The Gymnasium.

"RUN! RUN! RUN DAMN YOU!"

One of the sweating team members, sitting on the bench and lurched forward, panting, weakly looked up.

"Swearing-at-a-team-member-isn't-very..."

"Nice?" the coach sneered. "Screw nice, THIS IS COMPETITION! GET OUT THERE, YOU LITTLE JERKS! YOU CALL YOURSELF A BASKETBALL TEAM? DEFAULT DEFAULT!"

But no one took the coach seriously. He was after all, with his attitude, nearly one of them.

"Coach - My ankle -"

"Get back out there, Johnson!!"

Johnson rolled his eyes and adjusted his ankle. "Yes sir!"

But just as Johnson jumped into the court, their team, wearing red and white muscle-shirts just scored the last point. Cheers erupted from both sides of the room - after all, it was just practice.

"YEAH! WAY TO WIN ANOTHER POINT IN THE LAST FUCKING MINUTE! YEAH!!"

The team, exhausted but filled with adrenaline, all stopped as the bell rang. They all leaned over their knees, breathing heavily. Johnson was on the floor nursing his ankle. The coach ran onto the court.

"Who's the baby with the broken ankle? Oh yeah, hey Johnson..."

The team snickered and watched their coach make his entrance. It was almost hard to tell that he was their coach, excluding the fact that he swore like a trucker and pushed him hard like one. But he was so young and energetic, it was hard to differentiate him between coach and team member.

Coach Touzoku Torao was a tall man - muscular, coarse-tongued, and with strong, powerful legs that could jump higher than any other members of the basketball team. He could run faster than any teacher at school, and always won the teacher track competitions on Sports Day. His brown-red eyes were usually alit with some excitement for something or another, and his voice was always loud - booming, cheering, bellowing bloody hell. His white hair was cut short and was spiked around his cheeks and up in the air, and it always bounced whenever he was talking. His skin was tanned from all the time he had spent outside. He was a very animated and excitable person, which always made him seem not really much of a professional teacher, but almost another student at Westhall.

Even though he was twenty-six (going on twenty-seven) Touzoku still hadn't looked like he had even graduated yet.

Plopping a first-aid kit down, Touzoku knelt down to examine Johnson's ankle. He held it expertly, not wasting any time to find theh sprain. After a few seconds (in between saying "Babies don't wince") he had the ankle wrapped up sufficiently. To finish it off, he added an ice-pack like as if it was the cherry on top of an icecream.

"There. Done."

Experimentally, Johnson rolled his ankle. He grinned.

"Much better coach. Thanks."

"Yeah, shut it with the sappiness," Touzoku waved a hand and stood up. "Next time you have a sprain, you're going to the nurse, understand?"

Johnson nodded. Touzoku looked pleased. "Good."

Turning back to the students, he noted how each and every one of them was looking exhausted. He rolled his eyes.

"Good play out there," he said gruffly. The boys all looked up, some very surprised. Touzoku rolled his eyes again. "GOOD, I said, not terrific. We still have some plays we need to work on. Williams - bend your knees when you jump, damn you! You look like a friggin ballerina out there with your tippy-toey leaps. Scot- you gotta look around you before you toss the ball. That thing isn't a bomb about to go off. If you do it again, _I'm _going to explode, understand?"

The boy named Scot (with green eyes and brown hair) nodded, but he didn't appear to be afraid of his coach's threat. Everyone knew Touzoku's temper was as quick as it vanished, so no one really took him seriously.

"You better. McQuiggle...I keep telling you. Run, man, _run!_ If we were in Africa right now you'd be left alone on the Sahara for Scar to wallop you up."

"That was a terrible analogy, Coach."

"Shut up, Williams."

Seemingly ending with his rant, Touzoku stood back and crossed his arms over his bare chest. (He never wore a shirt to practices, but by law and policy of the school, he couldn't violate the "public decency" policy during school hours. So during classes he wore a muscle shirt ripped to his abdomen (because it got too "friggin' hot" during school)).

"Okay. Practice is over. Get your butts out of here and we meet on Monday."

The boys all nodded, and exhausted, dragged themselves off to the locker rooms. As they left, Touzoku bellowed at them, "KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK TEAM!"

"Well," a low voice chuckled from behind Touzoku. "A praise, aren't I ever surprised."

Spinning, Touzoku whipped around and saw Marik standing behind him, leaning against the brick wall. The suitcase was gone, and so was the leather jacket. Now the professor was donning a black muscle shirt, but his usual khaki pants. A smirk was on his lips. "It's 15:31, you know."

Touzoku snorted. "Oh please. So I'm a minute late."

"If we're a minute late, they might give away our table."

"A likely story," Touzoku said, waving his hand. "Alright alright. If you want me to leave, then just let me get changed."

"_You_ actually get _changed?_" Marik remarked, his smirk widening.

Touzoku scowled at him. "NO, I just normally walk out in broad daylight without a shirt, dripping with sweat, stinking of prespiration, and with my shorts down to my hips. Geez, Marik."

Laughing, Marik stopped teasing his friend and stepped away from the wall. "Gosh, like as if that sounds totally unfamiliar...I swear, wasn't it just yesterday the Headmaster was complaining about a salty stench in the air? Oh, right, and wasn't it just last night that the female side of the school screamed in fright because of what was it... public indecency?"

"Oh please," Touzoku snorted, cranking open the shower room door. "They weren't screaming in fright, Marik. They were screaming in _fangirlish glee._"

Marik laughed. "Yes, yes, because you have fangirls, Touzoku. Fangirls."

Touzoku grinned. "At least they're not fanboys."

He shut the door. Marik glared at the door.

"YOU BETTER NOT SING IN THE SHOWER AGAIN, TOUZOKU!"

* * *

Music / Bandroom

3:45 PM

Inside, the orchestra was playing "God Save the Queen." At the first glance, one would assume the students were concentrating very hard - they were after all, looking at their sheet music with great intensity. However, at second glance, one would notice that a few of them were shaking, and their eyes occasionally darted to the conductor in the front.

The conductor was one Japanese-born Bakura Akako. A thin man, slimly built, and quite young-appearing at the age of twenty four (going on twenty five). He had long white hair, cut into sleek layers to his midback. His eyes, when open, were a deep red color, rich with passion and intensity. His face and skin were quite pale, nearly pallid. His fingers were long and slender, and he was always elgantly dressed - white shirt, black jacket (finest quality, of course) and black pants and shoes.

But it wasn't how he dressed that scared the children...

By tradition, he was to be called Professor Akako, or Akako-sensei. But for whatever reason, every student called him by his first name, and Bakura didn't mind.

One of the students in front was shaking in his seat.

"STOP."

The voice was clear, cut and succinct. It was loud but it was soft at the same time. It was kind, but deadly as well. The music halted instantly.

Professor Bakura opened one eye to survey the room. Everyone started to noticeably twitter.

"...Somebody..." The other eye opened, and both eyes now began to rummage around the room suspisciously. "Is. _FLAT_! YOU!!!!"

He pointed his stick at the shaking boy with the tuba, as though to stab him with it. The boy whimpered but said nothing.

"...ARE FLAT! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?! YOU ARE FLAT! CAN YOU NOT HEAR A SHARP NOTE FROM A FLAT NOTE, A MELODY FROM A CRESCENDO?! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT INSTRUMENT YOU ARE PLAYING?!"

The poor little boy began to shake. Bakura snapped his stick against the stand.

"ANSWER ME."

The boy shook greatly, and finally whispered, "...a tuba..."

"IT'S NOT JUST A TUBA!" Professor Bakura snarled and whipped around. "I'll give you one last chance. From the last bar, please. One...two...THREE..."

The orchestra began to play. When it came to the little boy's note, he was shaking so badly, this time, he cracked.

"OUT!!!!!" Bakura violently tore away from his stand to yell at the boy. "OUT! YOU DO NOT BELONG IN MY ORCHESTRA, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! YOU DO NOT DESERVE TO PLAY THE TUBA, YOU DO NOT DESERVE THAT SEAT WHERE YOU'RE SITTING ON, AND YOU DO NOT DESERVE THIS MUSIC! OUT!"

The boy whined but scrambled out of his seat immediately, quickly hurrying down the steps with his tuba. Bakura began to head over to his piano.

"OUT! THE QUEEN WOULD BE ASHAMED TO HEAR YOU PLAY ONCE MORE! THE NEXT TIME YOU GET IT WRONG, I'LL THROW THIS PIANO AT YOU, DO YOU UNDERSTAND? NOW GET OUT! OUT OUT OUT!!"

The boy choked and instantly crashed out the door.

Heaving, Bakura collapsed onto his bench. He looked up and briefly noted the clock.

"_Shimatta,_" he cursed lightly under his breath. Professor Bakura had a tendancy to swear in Japanese whenever he was particulary stressed. And who could blame him? They had a performance three weeks from now, and they still were nowhere ready...

Bakura waved an ignorant hand. "Practice dismissed," he said offhandedly. The other hand was poised down at the key of his beloved piano. No one moved, and Bakura turned to look at him. "Do I have to hold each of your hands to get you to go out? OUT!"

Instantly, the whole room was at an uproar, and in five seconds flat, the students had disappeared.

Sighing, Bakura groaned, and slowly began to tap his fingers against the keys of the piano.

* * *

And so forth, the lovely start to a new story. It was a Friday afternoon - a typical Friday afternoon - in the school of Westhall.

* * *

A/N:

So, this is an AU fic, but I'm trying to keep everyone sort of in character. Well, I guess I'm exaggerating them a little bit, cause I have to put them in modern context. Marik's based (once again) on Japanese Marik, who's really quiet and stern all the time. He's like, so unmoving.

Touzoku is (also) based on Japanese Touzoku, who swears like crazy and can't seem to sit still for one whole episode. (Watch the AE arc and Battle City and compare the two - Marik doesn't move at all except for his arms and when Obelisk knocks him over, and Touzoku's jumping from floors to sarcophaguses to heck...I don't even know how he got onto those pillars and the friggin roof in episode 20...7?)

Bakura is based on a weird juxtaposition of English Bakura and Japanese Bakura. He's got the Japanese Bakura's temper (what with the whole spazzing thing) but he's got a music affinity or somewhat grace akin to English Bakura. His character's going to be further extended, so he's not always going to be spazzing. This is just Bakura in his worst mood. Because of him being a 'music teacher', I was THiiiiiiis close to calling him "Bakura Matsumoto", but then I thought ppl might thought me just a tad bit obsessive. XD

More to come, I hope you enjoy this story. It was inspired and a bit of a collaboration with darktenshi17...so darktenshi17, this is for you!

-AL


	2. Chapter 2

Ore no Gakuen

Chapter Two: Bachelor's Night Out

4:00 PM

Band room

"Well, here we are."

"Yep."

"Like any other Friday."

"Like every other Friday."

Marik smirked and leaned against the smooth brick wall, his eyes lingering on the wooden door. The golden letters WESTHALL MUSIC ROOM were sprawled elegantly across the wooden panel - underneath it in capital nice print: BAKURA AKAKO.

"I'm surprised it doesn't say 'DO NOT DISTURB' too," Marik noted, chuckling darkly. Touzoku snickered.

"I think it'd be cooler if he hung all the broken instruments from the students he's tortured from his doorframe," Touzoku suggested happily. "You know, like AliBababwa and Mufasa and stuff."

Marik blinked and slowly turned to look at Touzoku. Touzoku blinked back.

"...I think it's Mustafa, Touzoku," Marik said slowly. "And Ali Baba. Geez." He turned back to the door, leaving Touzoku scratching his head thoughtfully. "Get your Disney movies right."

The two of them stared at the door for another minute. Marik slowly bent down, as though to examine the wooden door carefully.

"Okay. Mission Getting-Bakura-A-Life-Once-In-A-While...engaged."

"You're getting engaged?" Touzoku asked.

Marik nearly head-desked his face into the door. "...No, you ass," Marik growled, noticing Touzoku's trademark grin. Marik rolled his eyes. "Let's just get him out of there."

"Yeah, good luck," Touzoku muttered. "I swear, if he stays in there any longer, he'll sprout a case of serious acute vampirism." He said this in all entire seriousness.

There was a few second of silence.

Marik stood up. "Okay, if anyone asks, I don't know you."

Touzoku snickered.

Looking back at the door, Marik sighed. Turning to Touzoku, he gave his companion a firm nod, before rapping sharply on the door. "Bakura!"

There was no answer from the other side. Marik waited a few seconds, before rapping again, this time louder and much longer.

"Come on Bakura! We know you're in there!"

His rapping was interrupted by a soft _hiss_ and the faintest cringe of bad piano keys. Marik paused to listen to the faint interruption, but when silence met him once more, he began to knock on the door again, much louder.

"We do this every Friday Bakura," Marik said, raising his voice. "Come on, it's not healthy for you to stay cooped up in there..."

"Vampirism!" Touzoku helped, his voice much louder than Marik's. "If you don't come out, you'll have SAVs!"

Marik had to stop knocking to drop his head in another 'headdesk' way.

"Of all the..." Marik muttered and raised his head. He decided to stop knocking and try yelling instead. "BAKURA! It's sixteen o'clock right now, it's getting late, and we all want to go home. So just get your ass out of here and we'll try to have a decent time, alright?"

Once more, there was nothing in response, other than a soft hiss and the succession of unhappy growling piano keys.

At this point Touzoku lost all his patience (as it usually lasted five minutes max) and he shook his head.

"Ah, screw it!" he declared. "I'M GOING IN!"

"Wait!" Marik reached out to stop Touzoku. "Touzoku-"

But big, tall, muscular and reckless Touzoku had already crashed through the bandroom door, war cry and all. Marik didn't even wince at the splinters that cracked from the hinges - at least the doors were still partially intact. The room inside was dark, so Marik couldn't see what the heck Touzoku was doing. He stood in front of the door and cupped his hands around his mouth.

" - THE DOOR WAS UNLOCKED YOU DIMWIT!"

There was a succesion of a few more crashes, some very sour piano keys, and the hollow sound of a drum rolling about. Within another few seconds, Touzoku came proudly stalking out the door, smug grin on his face and having a thin and very pissed off Bakura hanging off his shoulder.

"Unhand me," Bakura growled. He began clawing at Touzoku's shirt (he had changed into a white muscle shirt and jeans.). "UNHAND ME DAMN YOU!"

Touzoku didn't even seem to be phased at all by Bakura's clawing or thrashing. He merely turned to Marik, satisfied as could be, despite having the demonic band teacher ripping at his shirt. "So. Where are we going tonight?"

Marik eyed the scene in front of him for a moment, debating whether or not to help their smallest friend. But, since he had already given Bakura two warnings (and this happened very Friday when they tried to go out together for dinner), Marik decided to let Touzoku carry him.

"Red Sparrow," Marik nodded, still eyeing Bakura, who had temporarily stopped thrashing. Marik wisely took a step away from Touzoku. The moment Bakura was quiet, it meant that he was up to something...

_Whack._

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT MY EYE!"

A quick blur, Bakura's left leg had flipped up, nailing Touzoku in his left face. Letting go of the younger comrade to grab his eye, the younger one then managed to elegantly flip over and onto his feet again, while Touzoku was too busy swearing like a trucker (again) and covering his left eye.

"Holy fucking shit, Bakura---!"

Bakura didn't even turn around. The band professor snorted softly, and dusted his sleeves, carefully folding the cuff-links at the end of his sleeves. "Red Sparrow, did you say?" Bakura asked silkily, addressing Marik. Marik had to hold back a snort of laughter, so he settled with smirking instead.

"Yeah. They got a new menu now for ribs and vegetarian dishes. Good variety, that place."

As Marik was talking, Touzoku was still complaining his eye, muttering vengeance on Bakura who slowly turned on his heels to face Marik. At the mention of ribs, though, Touzoku immediately stopped his ranting.

"Ribs?" he repeated hopefully, his good eye widening like a child hearing the word 'candy'. "New ribs?"

Marik had to hold back a snort of laughter again. "Yes, Touzoku, ribs."

Behind him, Bakura scoffed lightly. "Well, if you insist," Bakura sighed dramatically. "I suppose I can't resist the taste of a good, rare steak on a Friday night."

Marik shook his heads. "Carnivores, the lot of you," he teased lightly. He cocked his head towards the door. "Come on. If we don't hurry, they'll give away our reservations." Those amethyst eyes darkened considerably. "And you know how much I _hate _it when they give away our tables..."

"I'm coming," Touzoku instantly said. Whether he was suddenly hurrying up because of the mention of ribs or because of what happened the _last _time Touzoku kept Marik waiting (resulting in the lost of a very good and expensive seating arrangement) was uncertain. But for whatever reason, Touzoku was walking a heck of a lot faster than either Marik or Bakura.

Walking swiftly in his strides, Bakura quickly came up to Marik's pace, still dusting his black jacket. The two of them were ... considerably good friends with one another. Well, alright, they were better than considerably good friends - close friends. Actually, all three of them were good friends, but no one really wanted to admit it nor show it. Or something like that.

Men and their complexes.

At any rate, Marik was the only person who could control Bakura normally, excluding his demonic spazziness. Both of them shared the same exquisite want for expensive food, for elegant and immaculate clothes, for decent music and fine literature. It was Touzoku who didn't give a damn whether where he ate was at Le Ritz or Burger King. As long as it was food and it tasted good, Touzoku couldn't care otherwise.

Bakura snorted softly and looked up at Marik (a few inches taller) with a smirk on his lips. "I personally think it was of very good taste to hang Touzoku from your living room ceiling fan the last time he made us late. His white hair and dark skin matched your carpet just so nicely."

* * *

4:15 PM

Teacher's Lounge

In the teacher's lounge, there was a long full-length mirror by the door. The room, usually crowded with people and coffee, drinks and paperwork, was now empty and quiet except for one person. This one person was standing in front of aforemtioned mirror, checking himself out from every angle possible.

But hey, who wouldn't?

Long, shoulder-length, gorgeous golden silk strands of hair were his pride. That and his beautiful large lavender eyes, of course. And his richly tanned skin, his sculpted and fine muscles...not too thin, and not too bulky...

And a dashing, dazzling white smile to go with that...add the boy-band voice and the gentle giggle, and you've got yourself a lady charmer.

(Darn how this narrator wishes she was that mirror...)

And History Teacher Malik Ishtal knew it all too well.

He was dressed in a fine, lavender shirt, silk and smart. His pants were black and made of a tight material, rough and coarse like jeans but tight like leather. He turned around to eye his butt for a bit - good. The pants did not make him look a smidgen fat more than he was already.

Abruptly, the door opened. Malik turned around to face the enterance-ee in all confidence...and smiled brightly when he saw the cute little head of the English professor.

"Ryyyouuuuu!"

Shaking his head, Ryou looked up, only to see his friend come at him with great big arms. "Ah- Malik!"

Laughing, Malik backed off, sitting onto the table. "Ah, my little literary-friended one," Malik chided. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Well-"

"Good," Malik grinned and clapped his hands. He jumped off the table. "Then you are accompanying me, as a dear close friend and comrade, to the Red Sparrow tonight."

"The Red Sparrow? But Malik -"

"Ah uh, no buts, my dear friend," Malik wagged his finger. "Youuu-" He poked Ryou on the nose. "Need to live out more. I promised that every Friday I was going to take you out so you could live a little ever since university. Up up, with me you come."

Too caught up in surprise, Ryou allowed himself to be dragged away by his friend. As he came to, Ryou finally began to sputter.  
"B-but Malik...! Red Sparrow is a _bar_..."

But Malik didn't reply. As the twenty-four-year old began to drag Ryou through the halls and down the teacher's parking lot, Ryou had to seriously consider who the heck fed Malik sugar that morning.

* * *

5:00PM

The Red Sparrow

"Here's our seat."

The booth was a horse-shoe-shapped booth, and lined with deep red leather. They were cushy and appeared to be robust, providing the most comfortable of eating experiences. A round table was in the middle. Around this round table, Marik, Touzoku, and Bakura wormed their way in. Marik sat on the outside (as was his usual preference, since he knew by experience that if Touzoku was up to something sitting here was a fast get-away.), Touzoku in the middle (Marik had once insisted that they keep the poor boy boxed in in case he went wild.) Finally, Bakura seated himself at the end, opposite of Marik.

Leaning over the table and crossing his arms, Touzoku smirked. "See? I told you they wouldn't give away our table."

"Oh shut up," Marik scoffed. He casually leaned back to get a good view of the restaurant.

The restaurant was based on a series of floors and steps - the booths were piled up on the sides on small steps, and in the middle were smaller tables and chairs. A dark bar with flashing lights was to their left. Below the bar, there were more steps, leading down to a tiled-floor and a dark enclosure of blaring music and flashing disco lights. The entire restaurant had a lively atmosphere despite most of the lights being dimmed and that most of the booths were encased in near darkness. In fact, the three of them particularly liked this restaurant because of its setting - it was calming, yet fun, soothing, yet excitable.

The booth the three bachelors were in was high up on the highest step. Since they were on the highest step, they could see through the windows that surrounded the highest plane of booths, as most of the restaurant was below ground-level.

"Pretty good music choice today," Touzoku approved, nodding his head with the music. He looked over at Bakura, who was already flipping through the menu with long, meticulous fingers. "See anything good?"

"Not particularly," Bakura said off-handedly, continuing to flip through the menu pages as though bored. Raising his head, Bakura eyed the dance floor, before turning his head back to the menu. They had been here before, usually weekly, at this same booth. So naturally Bakura was bored. In fact, Bakura was in a haughtily bad mood. His hair was beginning to tuft out in horns from lack of sleep.

Touzoku's hair was still bouncing to the music.

Finally taking his eyes off looking around the place, Marik grabbed Bakura's menu. He flipped through it without a word, and Bakura didn't even protest.

"Ribs?" Touzoku asked, leaning over towards Marik to see the specials. Without looking up, Marik managed to retrieve the 'Specials' sheet and handed it to Touzoku; the eldest of the three was sporting a very happy grin when he recieved it. "Hmn...Anyone up for anything spicy tonight?"

Marik 'hm'ed thoughtfully, having not made his decision yet. Bakura, however, snorted.

"I'll order my own set of ribs, thank you," the other white-haired one said coldly. His eyes kept on flickering back to the band that was playing on the bottom floor corner. His cheek kept on twitching. Marik finally noticed and peered over his menu sardonically.

"Control, Bakura, control."

Bakura hissed and turned away from the band as though disgusted. "Every note, every melody - wrong wrong wrong!" He gave a dramatic shudder.

Touzoku rolled his eyes. "Drama queen," he teased. Bakura wrinkled his nose. Touzoku ignored the other and shoved the Specialties in front of Marik. "I'm thinking about getting this - do you want any?"

Marik looked up from his menu to arch an eyebrow at Touzoku's choice. "Touzoku -...I'm a vegetarian, remember?"

Touzoku rolled his eyes dramatically. "OH! Right. Forgot." He took back his menu and stared at it analyzingly. "Well, if no one else wants the Steak and Ribs Spicy Explosion, then I guess it's all for me." His big grin didn't look disappointed whatsoever, though.

Huffing softly, Bakura plucked the specials menu away from Touzoku's grip and scanned it quickly.

"Red Sparrow's Premium Cut Steak-" Bakura handed the menu back to Touzoku. "I'm feeling a little carnivorous today."

Marik was still deciding. "...Hm..."

Abruptly, a rather beauteous waitress sashayed up to their table. She was holding a tray of glasses, her long, thick and wavy blond hair was up in a loose ponytail. She was dressed in an uniform (deep red with streaks of white at the bottom) that was chinched at the waist with an apron and came just to her mid-thigh. Her vuluptuous breasts were held high up and firm, and seemed this close to breaking free of the button confinements of her uniform. Her nametag plate read _Mai Kujaku._

She flashed them a 100-watt smile and laid out their drinks. "Hello boys," she greeted, with a very domineering air about her. "And how are we this week?"

Immediately, both Marik and Touzoku were sporting smirks that were entirely different from the smirks and grins they usually had.

"Lovely outfit, Mai," Marik complimented, his voice low and this close to snickering. Mai laughed.

"You like it, Ishtar?" she asked sarcastically. "I got it one size smaller just for you -..."

"And it fits you beautifully," Touzoku cut in. "I mean, really, like, are you _sure_ that's one size smaller? Because I swear, that outfit makes you look _so_ thin and _so _hot that I -"

Mai cut in with a laugh. "Now, now Touzoku, get your mind out of the gutter." She whapped her pad of paper on his head playfully.

Touzoku grinned evilly. "Is my mind ever out of the fucking gutter?"

"I don't know," Marik commented. "I think you live there. In fact, you should leave 'the Gutter' as your forwarding address for whenever you move."

"Or whenever I see someone as charming and sexy as you, Kujaku," Touzoku grinned at Mai. Mai snorted.

"Man, you are terrible at this, Touzoku," she laughed. "Really, you womanize women this way?"

"What works small will work big," Touzoku said smugly. "And let me tell you, I know _big_."

Mai laughed again. "Once more, Touzoku, you're terrible at this." She poised her hand over her pad of paper with a pen. "Seriously, dear, I think you'd have far more luck with women if you just relied on your looks and said, 'Hey ladies, there's a motel up the street.'"

Touzoku's face temporarily fell. "Tried that, didn't work," he said sadly.

Both Mai and Marik burst out laughing, and Touzoku flashed a grin again, indicating he had been joking. Mai smiled (they were her regulars) and she rested her weignt on the back of her heels comfortably.

"So what will it be this week, dears?"

Touzoku was the first to say his. "Steak and Ribs Spicy Explosion!"

Mai grinned knowingly, jotting it down. "And a beer to go with that too?"

Touzoku nodded. Mai jotted it down. "And you, Marik?"

Marik looked up from his menu thoughtfully. "Hm...I think I'll get this one today." He pointed to something in the thick menu. Mai nodded approvingly.

"Ah...the Spicy Koshari? Excellent choice," Mai scribbled it down. "And what would you prefer to drink?"

"Just some Pepsi and Vodka," Marik folded the menu. "I'll mix it myself."

Mai nodded and took the menu. "And you, Bakura?" She bent over, ready for his order. "What would you prefer?"

Bakura didn't even look up.

"Actually, I'd _prefer_ it if you would button up your shirt so your cleavage doesn't spill into my food."

There was a moment of dead silence: Mai was still, Marik glared, and Touzoku gawked.

Bakura smirked and casually rested his arm on the table, eyeing Mai nonchalantly. "But that's merely a customer's opinion, _Mai-san_." He retrieved his arm from the table and crossed them over his chest. Touzoku was still gawking at Bakura as though the younger white-haired one was missing his head.

Finally regaining composure, Mai sighed dramatically. "Red Sparrow's Premium Cut Steak; bloody rare; with saffron rice as a side dish. Correct?"

Bakura's smirk widened. "Nothing out of the ordinary, Mai-san."

"We also have a sushi special as a side dish as well. California rolls and Dynamite rolls."

"How many apiece?"

"Six."

"Made by an authentic Japanese chef?"

"Yes, Bakura."

Bakura smiled, satisfied. "I'll have that as well. _Arigatou gozaimasu, Mai-san._"

Rolling her eyes, Mai stuffed her pen in her apron pocket, and rolled the tray under her arm. Her other arm rested on her hip, and she sighed dramatically at Bakura.

"Every week, Bakura, every week," she said, rolling her eyes again.

Bakura laughed, something that rarely happened unless someone had been seriously maimed. "Merely looking out in the best interest of your beautiful breasts, Mai-san. You wouldn't want raw cow blood to be staining those assets, would you?"

Not even taking Bakura seriously, Mai shook her head and walked away. However, as she stepped down from the last step onto the dance floor, one could see her just fiddling with the aforemtioned button.

Once she was out of earshot, Touzoku shook his head. He snapped around to face Bakura.

"Are you fucking NUTS?!"

Bakura snorted non-chalantly and took a sip from his water. "Now now, if I were 'fucking nuts', Mai would have cracked that lovely board of a tray over my head. I daresay I was merely looking out for the well-being of her precious cleavage."

Marik merely shook his head. "Good grief, Bakura," he said. "Can't you be civil for at least one outing for once?"

Bakura pretended to look aghast and hurt. "Oh, but Marik," he admonished, "how could I simply be _me _if I weren't a nasty, bitter bachelor?"

Touzoku scowled and grunted.

"You could be a sexually-interested-hopeful bachelor like the rest of us normal people..."

There was a silence between them all, as Marik pretended that he did not know these people, that's right, did not know them, and Bakura was scowling, not happy having his fun ruined, and Touzoku was apparently frowning deep into space.

Suddenly the silence was broken.

"You don't _really _think she'll button up her shirt, do you?" Touzoku asked worriedly.

* * *

"Aw, Malik," Ryou complained as his friend shoved him onto a barstool. "No, Malik, really - I'm non-alcoholic, really..."

"Oh Ryou," Malik shook his head. "You don't have to buy a drink, _I'll_ buy you a drink. Live a little, Ryou."

Ryou sighed and rolled his eyes. "No, Malik," he said firmly. "And you shouldn't drink either tonight," Ryou said, plucking the drinks menu from Malik's hands. "You're our designated driver tonight. I'm not getting on that motorcycle if you're drunk."

Malik sighed. "I suppose you're right." He winced. "The owner would kill me if I so much as ding it..."

Ryou furrowed his brow lightly at his friend. "Where did you get that motorcycle anyway?" Ryou inquired suspiciously. Malik merely smiled 'innocently'.

"Chill down, Ryou, it's perfectly legal." The charismatic blonde sat back against the bar. "Barkeep! Two Sprites, please."

Ryou's eyes brightened. "Ooh! Sprite!" He sat up straighter in his seat. "So why are we here again, Malik?"

Malik grinned. "To have a good time, to forget about school, and to perhaps pick up some romances along the way."

At the last bit about the romances, Ryou's face fell a little. "Oh, Malik, you know how I feel about...you know...relationships and all that."

The blond nodded, running a hand through his hair. "I know, Ryou," he said, swirling in his seat to face his friend. "But you got to live out a little - and I mean, you don't have to look for someone right now, but coming out here...at least you've got options now, you know?"

Sighing, Ryou nodded. The barkeep came back with two cans of Sprite. Ryou opened his and took a sip immediately.

"Thirsty?" Malik inquired, opening his and squeezing a complimentary lemon slice into it.

Ryou nodded. "Yes," he took another sip. "I've been talking all day today - all my spares are gone now that Ms. Metternich is on a maternity leave."

Malik chuckled and took a deep sip from his Sprite. "I would trade some of my spares for yours, but I can't teach English to save my life."

"Oh, no, Malik, you speak English perfectly fine," Ryou exclaimed. Malik snorted.

"Hm, I'm sure," he said, swivelling in his seat. Changing the subject completely, Malik then said: "We'll just have dinner here, okay? If you're not comfortable with the whole 'meeting random people in hopes for something more' mission. We can just head over to a movie or an arcade later - I got some extra dollars on me."

Hearing this, Ryou's eyes lit up. "Oh, really Malik?" he asked, hopefully. "Really?"

Malik grinned and ruffled his friend's hair. "Yes, Ryou." He chuckled and flipped open a nearby menu. "But just let me have at least one dance to myself, ne?"

Looking much brighter, Ryou nodded. "Okay!"

* * *

"A Spicy Koshari..."

Marik nodded approvingly as his bowl of Koshari was placed before him. A bottle of Vodka and a can of Pepsi and an empty glass followed.

"For Touzoku - A Steak and Ribs Spicy Explosion..."

Touzoku's eyes lit up in a very carnivorous way - something that happened everytime the man was starving and caught sight of red meat. Marik made another wise choice to decide to not look when Touzoku was going to start eating. And he was right. No sooner did Touzoku get his steak did he stab it with a knife- and ripped the thing apart like some wild animal.

Marik closed his eyes and focused on his Koshari.

"Oh eyuck, Touzoku! Please, you're going to stain the assets..."

"Oh, sorry," Touzoku's voice could be heard, muffled. "Right. Wouldn't want to harm those pretty things, would we?"

"And a Steak - bloody rare, with saffron rice and sushi rolls as a side."

Bakura nodded a fraction of his head in the smallest of bows. Although he was not as crass about eating as Touzoku was, for whatever reason, Bakura's red eyes always turned a much brighter color whenever he eyed red meat. The youngest white-haired one, quite uniquely, also had the tendancy to sprout fangs when he was eating steak. When Touzoku and Marik first noticed, Marik found it very interesting, and that was when Touzoku first coined his term that Bakura had sprouted 'vampirism.'

Bakura, accustomed to his Japanese roots, also tended to eat his dinner with chopsticks. He even carried his own - silver stained, of course- merely out of habit and comfort. He licked his lips discreetly (tongue sliding over little fang and all) and picked up his utensils.

The three of them began to eat - Marik calmly, not looking up at his comrades as they ate, Touzoku noisily, taking deep swigs from his bottle of beer, and Bakura silently, cutting the steak in multiple, tiny pieces, licking his lips occasionally at the sight of blood.

"You do realize," Marik said finally, wrapping another forkload of Koshari, "that if you keep on eating raw meat, you might eventually end up with food poisoning?"

"I'll take my chances," Bakura said hoarsely, placing a bite of raw meat into his mouth.

Marik returned to his Koshari. "Alright, but when you're in the hospital one day..."

"I'm immune," Bakura replied. He took a sip of water and cleared his throat.

"Immune?" Marik repeated, placing his forkload of Koshari into his mouth.

"Yes, immune," Bakura repeated briskly, voice much better. He began on his rice. "I've had food poisoning before from raw meat. I'm fine."

Marik looked mildly impressed."Really now. And when was this?"

"When I was very small," Bakura said shortly. And he sufficiently placed a large amount of rice and steak into his mouth. Marik took this a sign that Bakura did not want to talk - after all, everytime his childhood was mentioned, Bakura's tuft of hair ("Demon Horns," Touzoku happily dubbed once.) that indeed, stuck out like horns, became more pronounced. This was the usual signal that Bakura's mood was getting much darker.

Touzoku, who wasn't looking up when this conversation occurred, asked, "Really? How old were you --"

There was a sharp grunt from Bakura, who was still had his mouth full and didn't want to be disturbed. Touzoku looked up and scowled when he saw the aforementioned Demon Horns in the air. He rolled his eyes and went back to eating his steak.

"Just asking," Touzoku muttered. He took a swig of beer.

* * *

"Hmn," Ryou patted his lips with a napkin. "That was delicious."

Ryou, who had ordered baked chicken with mashed potatoes and peas, was quite satisfied with his meal. Malik, who had ordered a vegetarian burger, was distracted and hadn't even touched his meal.

"Hm?" Ryou swallowed his mouthful and looked at Malik. "Malik, why aren't you eating?"

The History teacher, however, was staring distantly at the dance table. Since night had fallen, the dance floor was now actively alive with couples and loners dancing. The disco sphere above was flashing multi-colored lights, and the dimmed lights at the tables had turned nearly dark. Most of the diners had left already, not interested in dancing...but all the people left...

Malik abrupt stood up. "That's it. I'm dancing."

Ryou nearly choked on his mashed potatoes. "E-Excuse me?"

"_I''m _dancing," Malik explained. He took a step forward and adjusted his shirt. "You don't have to come, Ryou. But I'm going to dance, ne?"

Ryou, looking most extremely relieved, nodded. "Wait," he said, looking nervous all over again. "What if someone comes up to me? What if someone tries to ask me to dance? What if -"

Malik laughed. "Ryou..." He patted his friend's hand. "You'll be fine."

Ryou looked doubtful.

* * *

A/N: That was nearly...nine pages, I'm guessing. There was more to this chatper, but they will have to wait for some other time. In the meantime, I hope I'm not making anything too obvious plotwise...And I hope you've enjoyed the little banters between Marik, Touzoku and Bakura.

Please read and review!! 3


	3. Chapter 3

Ore no Gakuen

Chapter Three: The Bachelor's Night Out Part 2

The three of them had just finished their meal. Marik now was mixing his odd combination of Pepsi and Vodka; Touzoku was swigging down his second bottle of beer, and Bakura was picking at his last sushi.

Night had fallen now. The large clock upon the wall read 8:15 (the three of them had actually spent more time talking than eating). All of the lights had been dimmed now, and most of the people dining had left. The tables had been swept out of the wall and pushed/stacked up against the wall, clearing the way for expanding the dance floor. The bar was the only thing lit now, excluding the disco lights and the flashing decorations and spotlights. A great big digital clock was projected up on the ceiling, so anyone looking up could see the time sprawled across teh ceiling in digital format.

The band in the corner were taking their break (Bakura was very thankful for that) and the DJ was now taking over temporarily. They were playing a variety of music, mostly dance, pop, and rock. Marik, satisfied with his meal, looked over at the dance floor. Since it was only eight, there was a decent crowd dancing, but the really wild ones didn't come out until nearly ten or eleven. Marik was considering if he should join the fun when Touzoku decided for them.

"Let's dance," Touzoku stood up. Bakura snorted.

"No thank you," he replied, sipping on his water. "Imagine, dancing among those miserable mortals?" His red eyes flickered to the dance floor fleetingly. "Although you have to give them a little credit. I never knew one's derriere could do all that until I saw these people dancing..."

Marik snorted in return and took a sip of his drink. "Yes, Bakura, our asses are used in a lot more ways other than just sitting..."

"They're like...our commercial," Touzoku offered. "You know. A bit of a free show of what else we can do..."

Bakura groaned. "Oh good God, Tozouku. Spare us the X-rated-ness."

"Ah, naw, I just wanted to talk about the birds and the bees," Touzoku replied sarcastically. He ran a hand through his hair, rustling it up even more. He flashed a grin. "Well. I'm going. You coming, Marik?"

"Going to dance, boys?" Mai had returned. Her apron was off, but she was still holding a tray and two bottles of beer. Smirking, she eyed Touzoku up and down. "Well, well, Tozouku. You look like you're going to have a good time."

Touzoku grinned. "You betcha."

Mai's smirk grew and she placed one of the bottles on the table. "Here hon. Have one on the house. To get you going."

Touzoku's grin grew. "Awesome! Thanks!" He immediately grabbed it and chugged half of it down. Bakura groaned again and covered his eyes with a hand, pretending to be disgusted. Mai laughed lightly and placed the other bottle of beer in front of Bakura.

"Drink up, hun," she said. "This one's for you. You need a little more fun out there."

"Oh, one beer isn't going to get him going," Touzoku assured. He chugged some more beer down. "Get him a keg."

"I think _you're_ the keg now," Marik said, eyeing the three bottles Touzoku had now consumed. "You're _definitely _not driving."

"Wait...Monsieur Vampire here is your designated driver?" Mai asked incredulously, thumbing towards Bakura, who still had not even touched the beer. She quickly grabbed it out of his reach. "Good thing you've told me. Wouldn't want my best customers in a car wreck." She slid the bottle to Touzoku. "Here hon. Have that one too."

Touzoku looked like he had just recieved Christmas several months early.

"You're going to intoxicate him," Marik warned, eyeing Touzoku recklessly snatching the fourth bottle. Wisely, Marik grabbed it out of Touzoku's hands. "Give that to me, you ass." He handed it back to Mai. "If he's still standing when we leave, then you can give it to him." Marik's eyes flashed dangerously at the oldest one. "I'm not dragging him home when he's drunk."

Mai had to laugh. "Oh Ishtar, let him have a little fun."

Marik scowled. "He's going to have all the fun he needs. He drank three beers, Mai."

"And I can go for another!" Touzoku shouted. He smacked his fist into his palm. "Yeah!! Alright! Who's up for some dancing?"

Mai laughed. "Wait a moment, hon." She gestured to their table; although they had finished dinner, the plates had not yet been cleared. In fact, Bakura still had his last sushi. She held out her hand, and narrowed her eyes at Touzoku. "Pay up hon."

Touzoku arched an eyebrow at her hand, before grumbling. "Oh fine..." Everyone began to rustle in their pockets for their money. Marik threw a in a twenty, Bakura threw in another, and Touzoku begrudgingly got out his wallet, and handed her an extremely battered twenty and a crisp ten. "Say, Mai, have you got a night-job too?" Touzoku grinned. Mai scoffed loudly and threw him back his ten.

"Pervert," she snorted. Touzoku snickered and pocketed his money. She looked back at the other two. "Well? Anything else you guys might want before I clear the table? Anything to go?"

Marik gestured to his Pepsi and Vodka. "Just another Pepsi."

Bakura shrugged. "A bottle of water, Mai-san."

Mai nodded. "And you, Touzoku?"

"Just the beer, thanks," Touzoku said, making sure his wallet was secure in his back pocket. "Oh, er, yeah," he raised up his hand innocently. "Can I get your bra to go please?"

_Whack._

There was a few moments of silence. Mai stared, Marik arched an eyebrow cynically. Bakura had his hand in the air, chopsticks poised in the postion of utmost grace. And Tozuoku's left eye was sporting a sushi.

"Wow." Marik looked rather impressed. "Sushi in the eye. That's pretty good aim, Bakura."

Bakura said nothing as he put away his utensils, pocketing them in his inner breast pocket of his jacket. "For once in your life, Touzoku," Bakura hissed, his horns rising again, "be a _gentleman._" Bristling, Bakura buttoned up his jacket and headed onto the dance floor. "_Ikuyo, Ishtar-san._"

Touzoku merely stood there, his right eye twitching. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed the sushi and threw it onto his plate, wiping his left eye angrily.

"Fucking bastard," Touzoku growled. "It was just a joke..."

Marik said nothing and stood up. He grabbed the beer in Mai's hand and shoved it in Touzoku's hand. "Here." Passing Mai, he gave her another five-dollar-bill. "One more for when we leave," Marik said lowly to Mai. Touzoku swore a little under his breath and ripped the cap off his beer. After chugging the whole contents of it in a mere ten seconds, he shoved Marik violently aside and headed to the dance floor. Mai remained where she was, watching the two white-haired ones cynically as they entered the crowds of dancing youngsters.

"It's been a few years now," Mai said, sighing indifferently. "You'd think they'd be more nicer to each other after so many years together."

"Gee, you'd think," Marik replied sarcastically. He finished his drink and handed it to Mai. "Pay no attention to them. They'll cool off sooner or later."

"Is he still always that intense?" Mai asked, balancing everything onto her tray. Marik snorted and shrugged.

"Who knows?" He 'hmphed' and placed his jacket onto the seat. "I better go. Whenever Bakura starts speaking Japanese to me it usually means he's in a bad mood."

"They'll cool down," Mai repeated from Marik.

Marik shrugged indifferently and stepped down from the steps. "Oh, and ah..." He turned back and smirked at Mai. "Keep the change."

Smirking, Mai shook her head and departed towards the kitchens. Meanwhile, Marik had already disappeared in the crowd of people.

* * *

"You're not going to enjoy the fun, dear?" Mai asked, as she slid behind the bar. The white-haired male turned to her, blinking so innocently Mai had to smile.

"Er...no," Ryou admitted. He glanced at the crowd of dancing people. "I'm...really not much of a dancer."

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't try," Mai insisted. She hopped onto her bartender's stool (on wheels too!) and slid next to the boy. "What's troubling you, dear?"

Ryou shrugged and put his book down. "I don't know," he said unsurely. "I've always been...a little shy."

Mai smiled widely. "That you are," she teased, lightly pushing him in the shoulder. "Listen honey, you're not going to get through life just watching it. Live a little. Have a little fun."

Ryou blushed. "But I...don't know how to."

Mai waved her hand nonchalantly. "Ah, it's easy. Just let loose. Be yourself. Say hi to strangers and just do your thing." She took a look at the crowd. "And I don't know what's with this resturaunt and albinos. You sure you've got no older brother, Ryou?"

Ryou shook his head. "No," he said softly. "No, I don't."

Mai 'hmn'ed thoughtfully and shook her head. "Well, anyways. Come on, join Ishtal out there. It looks like he's having a lot of fun."

Indeed, Malik could be seen quite clearly in the crowds of people, laughing, dancing, swivelling his hips and flinging his gorgeous blond hair back. Girls were squealing and men were hooting alike as Malik did his thing.

Ryou smiled fondly at his friend. "Yeah, yeah he is."

Mai gave the little one a shove. "Come on, join him." She gave Ryou a wink. "Have a little fun before something goes wrong." Here, her violet eyes lingered on the tall shadow of Touzoku, who had forgotten being pissed off at Bakura and was dancing like crazy. "Er, you better go now, hon." She shoved Ryou off the seat. "Any minute now that big one over there's going to break something."

Ryou blinked, confused, but Mai had already pushed him off his seat and disappeared into the kitchen. Before he finally took a step onto the dance floor, he thought he had heard her yell, "Jackson! Get the mop and first aid kit ready!". Ryou shrugged, not quite understanding what she had meant, but decided to take her advice and entered the dance foor.

* * *

"This is awesome!!" Touzoku threw his fist in the air in beat with the music. "YEAH!!"

Marik laughed and threw his head back, letting his blond hair slid flick back off his shoulders. "Got your eye on anyone yet?" Marik asked, swivelling his hips slowly and seductively. A few girls crowded at the stacked tables gasped and pointed at Marik. Marik chuckled lowly to himself and arched his back. The girls squealed and moaned softly.

"No, not yet," Touzoku said, dancing a lot more faster than Marik. He bobbed his head back and forth, white hair shaking crazily. "YEAH! WHOO!!"

Bakura, meanwhile, had found them, and was not dancing, merely strutting past the many people who were. Women and their gazes follwed him simutaneously, eyeing his lovely grace and elegance. His long white hair flowed naturally behind him, as though on an invisible wind. A mysterious bachelor handsome and dark as the moonlight itself.

"This music is awesome!!" Touzoku cheered, jumping up and down. Rock had always been his favourite genre. "YEEEEAAAAH!"

"One more broken note and I swear I will become deaf!" Bakura yelled to Marik over the chaos.

Marik rolled his eyes, patience ending, and shoved Bakura back into the crowd. "Just shut up and enjoy yourself, you ass!"

Indignant, Bakura scowled darkly and disappeared back into the crowd. Almost as quickly as he disappeared, another figure emerged, and bumped lightly into Touzoku.

"Ne, what do we have here?" Touzoku looked down and saw the tanned, blond boy who was dancing happily away. "Oh...hey Malik."

"Touzoku!" Malik looked up and saw the gym teacher. "Hmn. Didn't think you'd be here."

"Liar," Touzoku snorted. "We're here practically every week."

Malik snickered and danced around Touzoku. "Good music choice today."

"That's what I said!" Touzoku exclaimed. "Geez. Some of us just have better tastes than others."

At this point, Marik turned around, and met eyes with Malik. They didn't exchange much hellos, though Malik did nod a little at Marik. Marik merely stared back.

"I borrowed your motorbike, by the way," Malik said as he danced by Marik. "I promise I won't dent it."

"You better not," Marik growled, his voice very low.

Malik smiled sweetly. "Promise."

Marik 'hmphed' again and continued dancing. "If you so much as _ding _it..."

"I _won't_, geez."

"Malik!"

Quickly, Malik turned to see who had called him; when he looked back, Marik was gone. Sighing, Malik merely shrugged; the other must have found someone of interest and left.

In Marik's place, Ryou came squeezing through. Being the usual clumsy one that he was, Ryou nearly tripped onto Malik, but bumped into Touzoku instead.

"Kay, what is with all these people hitting on me?" Touzoku looked down again. "Oh. It's you. Hey Puffhead."

Ryou scowled a little, (a cute expression Malik thought.) and looked up. "Oh." He blushed. "Hello Touzoku," he smiled softly.

Touzoku grinned in return. "Yeah, of course it's me. Who else calls you Puffhead around here?"

Ryou blushed a little again and shook his head. "Malik," he reached out a hand. "I have no idea how to dance..."

Malik laughed and took Ryou's hand. "Well then, watch the master, Puffhead!"

Ryou groaned and glared at Malik. "No one calls me Puffhead, Ishtal..."

"I do," Touzoku chirped happily, grinning evilly when Ryou shot him a glare.

"Puffhead!" Malik sang. "Come dance with me, Puffhead!"

And so forth, Ryou was dragged along with Malik behind Touzoku. "No..no, Malik, no, NO ONE calls me Puffhead...!"

Touzoku couldn't help but grin.

* * *

"Hey Bakura," Marik came up to the male who was eyeing the band with great hatred. "Hmn. Finally going through your Enemies List tonight?"

Bakura growled again and snapped towards Marik. "You know what?" Bakura hissed. "As soon as this song is over, I swear, I am going to go up there and..."

"Cause a scene?" Marik suggested. "Teach them a lesson? Gut them and stuff their guts down their throat?"

"Oh, all of them seem so appealing," Bakura admitted, finally smirking a little. His fangs twinkled a little as his smirk turned into a grin. "You know, gutting them wouldn't be too bad..."

Marik chuckled darkly. "I would lend you my Swiss Army knife, but then again, I would be, what's it called, assissting in the crime of murder one..."

"Not murder, merely torture," Bakura corrected, almost gently.

Marik laughed loudly and continued to dance. "After this song?"

Bakura's red eyes flashed. "Oh yes. After this song."

"Good luck."

Just perfectly, the band ended their song. Eyes flashing again, Bakura swiftly climbed onto the steps of the stage.

"Have fun!" Marik called after him.

* * *

"So...you looking for someone tonight?" Touzoku asked Malik over the noise. Malik shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Ditto."

Malik sighed. "You know, for once, I just want to meet that perfect guy, you know? Forget school, forget marking, and just meet that special person..."

"Guy?" Touzoku repeated, looking over at Malik weirdly.

Malik blushed. "Oh! Er, girl, significant one, you know," Malik laughed hurriedly. "You know."

Touzoku blinked at Malik, before shrugging. "Yeah, okay." He continued to dance like crazy. "Guy, girl, doesn't matter to me."

Shaking his head, Malik was about to say something, when suddenly the music was interrupted by feedback. A soft voice hissed over the speakers.

"Can you play this song?"

"_Automatic?_ You mean -"

"Yeah. By _Hikaru Utada. _Can you play it?"

"B-But, sir, it's in Japanese..."

"_Play it, _snivelling one, not _sing it_..."

There was feedback once more. Some people had stopped dancing to look up at the stage; since it was dark, it was hard to tell the newest shadow that had placed itself in front of the mike. The gutarist and pianist looked bewildered. The vocalist, a young male, looked at them confusedly.

"_Play it,_" the shadow snarled.

Immediately the other members of the band stiffened and nodded. "Yes sir."

The music started up. It was pretty engaging, pretty fun. But everyone was too busy noticing the shadow who had now appeared in the spotlight. His long white hair flickered lightly as he bent over the mike, his black jacket open, his tie slighty undone.

"_Minna-san...Konbanwa."_ He straightened. "_Yeah..."_

His breath ushered over the speakers.

_"Y-yeah...can't help but feel...aliivvve...yeah yeah."_

The music started again. Once it rose, Bakura flickered back his hair. He closed his eyes and brought the mike close to his lips.

When his voice began to float over the speakers, Malik had to stop. He gazed up at the risen corner - he was too far to tell the facial appearance of the singer, but he was not too far away to appreciate that voice.

Time slowly stopped for Malik.

There was a faint drumroll, and that voice...that soft, yet deep rich voice...floated from the speakers.

_"On the seventh bell_

_You answered the phone..._

_Although I didn't say my name_

_You instantly knew by my voice..."_

At the voice, Touzoku raised his head. Scowling, he shook his head.

"Show-off."

Slowly, Bakura took a step forward; his eyes remained closed. Malik found himself slowly swaying from side to side, finding the beat of the melody through instinct. He was too busy listening to that strange, encapturing voice.

_"Naturally, from the lips_

_the melody falls out_

_but the time when I don't know what to say..._

_...that is the happiest time of all."_

Again, Touzoku shook his head. Several girls had already stopped dancing, and just instead, turned to listen to Bakura. Marik had returned by now, finding Touzoku.

"Hmn. You'd think he'd start a career with that voice, but he's too arrogant to."

"I can sing in Japanese too," Touzoku scowled. Marik chuckled at Touzoku's jealousy and began dancing along with him.

"Really now? Are you any good?"

Touzoku wrinkled hise nose.

"Sing the next verse," Marik commanded. He turned to face Bakura. "Let's see if you're any better than he is."

_"Even on days that bad events occured_

_It all flies away when I see you_

_I can't see you, my rainy days_

_When I hear you voice, it's automatic, sun will shiiine."_

Marik shuddered. "Oh god. For this reason exactly I ask you never to sing in the shower."

Touzoku swore and body-checked Marik. Laughing darkly, Marik punched his friend back.

_"It's AUTOMATIC!_

_Just being near_

_Just being looked at by those eyes_

_My feelings just won't stop_

_(I don't know why)_

_I can't say no_

_I just caaan't help..."_

Malik felt himself smiling broadly; the music was getting really pumped up now; many people were dancing together. He began to dance too, swiftly, sexily, the way he had always been known to do. A spotlight found him and Malik continued to dance, not the least bit shy.

_"It's AUTOMATIC!!!_

_When you hold me_

_It's like I'm in paradise with you_

_It's so bright_

_(I don't know why)_

_When I close my eyes, soon enough_

_I feel so good_

_It's AUTOMATIC!"_

Bakura swivelled his hips; bringing cries and cheers from the many girls dancing.

"_O-Oh yeah...yeah yeah..."_

Ryou came up to Malik. "Um...Malik?" he yelled over the noise. "I'm going to sit down, okay?"

"Yeah!!" Malik called back. A crowd was beginning to gather around his spotlight. "You do that!" His eyes flickered back to the band. The shadow was dancing lightly, but not anything daring. Malik found himself wishing the singer would do something sexy, but the man didn't.

_"That vague attitude_

_makes me feel so uncomfortable_

_the fact that I'm deeply in love_

_...I think I'll keep it a secret for a little while more...!"_

The music started up again. Malik threw himself back and shimmied a little bit, relishing in the light and basking in the music. The voice was just that beautiful.

_"Even on days that kindness was harsh_

_You always told me the truth, no matter what._

_Can't cry alone on those rainy days (yeah yeah...)_

_Touching the ring..._

_look over there, the sun will shiiine."_

The white-haired singer threw his hair back lightly - several girls squealed and swooned. Malik found himself feeling hyped up even more when the music got louder, more bouncy, increasing to a dramatic climax. He gave a whoop and swivelled his hips - the crowd around him cheered and whistled, shouting encouragements.

_"It's AUTOMATIC!!_

_Just being near..._

_my body gets all hot_

_I can't hide this surprise_

_(I don't know why)_

_I can't even breathe_

_I just can't help..."_

Bakura smirked lightly, tilting his head up and bringing the mike closer to his lips.

_"It's AUTOMATIC!!_

_When I try to access it_

_Inside the computer screen_

_the words blink, chika-chika,_

_and when I place my hand on it,_

_I feel so warm...!"_

Feeling the climax of the song rising, the crowd about cheered, and the lights flashed. Bakura's smirk grew briefly, before he vocalized louder - that's right, louder, his voice booming off the speakers as they vibrated throughout the dark, flashing room. Malik jumped happily about two feet in the air, so happy that the song finally was at its great height - more dancing!!

_"IT'S AUTOMATIC!_

_JUST BEING NEAR..._

_I don't think of it as important_

_...It's just that I need it..._

_(I don't know why)_

_Probably because I'm lonely..._

_I just NEED YOU..._

_IT'S AUTOMATIC!!!!!!!"_

The crowd shouted, screamed and cheered uproariously. Malik finished in a pose; the spotlight was now on him, and on him alone...Several people cheered at him, whooping and whistling and squealing. The silkly voice over the mike rose, so filled of great emotion...

_"WHENEVER YOU HOLD ME...!!_

_It's like I'm with you in paradise yeah..._

_It's so bright, flashing flashing ..._

_(I don't know why)_

_When I close my eyes, soon enough whoa whoa YEAH...!_

_I feel sooo g-goood yeah..._

_IT'S AUTOMATIC!!!"_

The crowed roared again, clapping now, shouting, whooting so loudly. Many of them have stilled their dancing and was merely watching the two spectators. Marik and Touzoku, finally deciding rest, were standing at the back; both their eyes turned from Malik to Bakura and back occassionally. Marik looked amused, and Touzoku had a smirk on his face - his arms crossed over his chest. He looked this close to rolling his eyes again, but seemed to stop.

Over the speakers, Bakura's voice dropped again; so soft, so sexy...

_"Tell me w-whyyyyaiaiaii? Hmnnnaii...Iiii just you want here with me..._

_Tell me whyyy...?"_

Slowing down, Malik swirled lightly on his feet, waving his arms lightly.

_"Automatic...oohhh, I wanna meet you..."_

The music continued to slow, with occasional hyper beats in between. The crowd was clapping already. Back at the bar, Mai was watching, a smile on her face. Ryou was sitting on his barstool, happily clapping away - he had enjoyed the song, just like everyone else.

"Go Malik!" Ryou cheered.

_"I don't know...(why)_

_...it's AUTOMATIC!_

_Baby I need you_

_I don't know ...what..._

_Oh Baby, I want you right now...!"_

Nearly exhausted, Malik grinned brightly and threw his hands in the air. His hair was glistening with sweat, but damn, that was awesome! Even Marik in the back clapped his hands...albeit twice and very shortly. Touzoku was whooping along with the rest of the loud crowd, being the loud one that he always was.

Smiling, Malik stood in his position, gaining his breath. He briefly looked back over the stage; the singer had not departed yet, but the shadow still hung over his face.

_"Automatic..._

_I want you to need me..."_

The singer cocked his hips from side to side to the remaining beat. His voice dripped over the mike again.

_" Iiii don't know what..."_

He suddenly raised his head, and for a moment, the lights shone on his bright red eyes. The crowd temporarily gasped and ooohed and the coincidental effect.

_"IT'S AUTOMATIC!!!"_

The song ended abruptly, but the crowd was cheering once more. Girls in the front jumped up and down, and boys in the back were whooping and throwing their fists in the air (Touzoku among them.) Ryou stood up from his barstool to clap very fast, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Malik released his breath, sagging a little; the spotlight stopped its glare on him and Mai's voice came from over the intercoms.

"And there you are, ladies and gentlemen, give it up for that hot sexy little blond over there - gorgeous dancing dear!"

The crowd agreed and clapped again. The girls in the front squealed in appreciation for the nth time that night.

"And there you are too, ladies and gentlemen - that demon of a singer, give it up for ----"

"--for someone who can sing a damn note," Bakura's voice interrupted. He nodded his head briefly to the crowd. "_Yokatta ne, minnayo...?_" There was a soft snort followed by terrible feedback- Bakura had swung the mike back to the original lead singer without turning it off. "You were sharp when the note was flat, by the way," Bakura whispered harshly as he jumped off the stage. The poor lead singer merely stood there, holding the mike, feeling utterly humiliated now.

The crowd came to swarm Bakura, but deftly, Bakura slid into the shadows of the restuarant, and, in the temporary moments of darkness, managed to evade the crowd and headed over to Marik and Touzoku.

"Not bad," Marik said, smirking mildly when Bakura returned. Touzoku snorted a bit here and there, not acutally having anything to say.

"Yeah...yeah, not bad," Touzoku echoed Marik. Bakura shot him a glare and huffed.

"I detest music that is not sung properly," he said, dusting off the creases in his jacket again. He looked up at Marik. "_Ishtar-san,_ that song exhausted me. I'm ready to go home."

Marik arched his eyebrow and glared at Bakura back. "It's only ..." He looked at the digital clock. "...10:30."

"Aw, man, but that's so early," Touzoku whined. Bakura ignored the oldest one and took a look at his own watch.

"Really, Marik," Bakura continued coldly, "if we want to get an early night's sleep..."

"That's the whole point of Bachelor's Night Out. So we don't get any and sleep in tomorrow."

"The orchestra has a rehearsal tomorrow."

"For fuck's sake, Bakura, can't you just forget about school for once?" Touzoku's voice cut in.

"_You,_ Coach Sweat-a-Lot, have a practice tomorrow at three, do you not?"

"No," Touzoku protested angrily. "I have it on Sun..." He paused for a moment. "Oh shit, you're right...that is tomorrow, isn't it...?"

Marik shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "Knowing you, you'd get up just five minutes before three tomorrow anyways," he said darkly. Touzoku's shoulders sagged.

"Okay, I made us late _once _and you nearly fucking broke my jaw..."

"You were late more than just '_once'_, Touzoku..."

"Oh yeah? Name one time I did, other than the time you chucked me at the fucking ceiling fan."

"Hmn, er, let me think -" Marik pretended to think hard very sarcastically. "Our last Bachelor's Night Out, our Awards Ceremony, our _job interview_..."

Touzoku scowled. "I said one, not Santa's fucking Christmas list."

Marik rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Fine, we may as well go home," he growled. Overall, it was the Designated Driver's choice; and this time, Bakura was the Designated Driver.

Bakura, though cold and indifferent, wasn't an idiot. He could tell that neither of the older companions wanted to leave. Shaking his head, Bakura got his keys.

"Idiots," Bakura snorted. "We don't have to hang about a stupid bar anyway to have fun."

"Yeah?" asked Touzoku bitterly, not happy at all about going or being accused of being late. "Where?"

Bakura sent him a steely glare. "If you two will stop _pouting _like insolent _children,_ I personally have several bags of...what do you call those ... _popcorn _at home and a stack of horror movies..."

Marik arched his eyebrow at the mention of horror movies."Intriguing," he admitted. "Is this your way of fantasizing your morbid ways of dealing with your Enemies List?"

"Oh, everytime I pop in _Ringu_ I imagine that little girl clawing away at another horrible singer we've heard at this bar," Bakura replied happily.

Exhaling shortly, Touzoku's shoulders sagged again. "Fine, we'll watch some horror movies at home," he said dejectedly. Bakura closed his eyes impatiently.

"_Shimattayo, _Touzoku!!" Bakura swore in Japanese.

Marik smirked. "You forget Bakura has secretly stashed his PS2 and a Japanese version of DDR in his closet."

At this, Touzoku's eyes instantly brightened. "DDR?" he echoed, an evil tinge to his voice. His red-brown eyes turned to Bakura. "_You_ play DDR?"

"Of course not," Bakura retorted huffily. "...Well, not anymore," he admitted sourly.

Touzoku's face brightened considerably after that admission. "That's okay," he said happily. "Horror movies are fine."

Bakura narrowed his eyes dangerously at the eldest one, before snapping away and strutting off towards the door. Marik laughed lowly and walked over to the bar, picking up his jacket.

"He's going to hate me for bringing that up," Marik snickered. He slipped on his jacket.

Touzoku still looked very happy. "So the Vampire _does _have a life outside his piano..." Touzoku snickered. "You know, for I a while, I seriously thought he was having an affair with that thing."

The two older companions laughed. Mai heard and came to the bar with the bottle of beer and handed it to Touzoku.

"You were a good boy tonight," Mai smirked. Touzoku scowled.

"Uh huh. Don't fucking degrade me, Kujaku."

Mai laughed, enjoying ticking Touzoku off. "Sorry you didn't pick up any girls tonight, dear." She leaned over the bar. "Although -" Here she whispered softly. "I have a secret to tell you..."

Touzoku blinked. "Huh? What?"

Smirk growing, Mai beckoned the other with her finger. Dumbfoundedly, Touzoku merely followed, thinking that she wanted to whisper something into his ear. When they got close enough though, Mai gave Touzoku a smart kiss on the cheek.

The response was halarious. Touzoku instantly snapped away, cheeks aflame. Mai laughed good-heartedly and Marik roared in laughter.

"Aw, Touzoku - sweetie," Mai giggled. Marik was laughing so hard he was leaning against the bar.

"_Ra_, Touzoku, you _suck _when it comes to women!!!"

Even more cutely, Touzoku couldn't say anything back. His cheeks were still tinted rather red.

Laughing, Mai took pity on Touzoku and ran around the bar, giving him a hug. "Aww, honey," she cooed, when he tried to turn away from her. "We were just joking, honey, you're so cute when you blush."

"I'm not fucking cute!" Touzoku protested, though his voice was hoarse so it didn't do very much good. "And get off me, you woman!" He ripped his arms away, freeing himself. "Your cleavage is so ... so..."

"Big?" Mai offered.

Touzoku made a face. "Yes! Big! Damn you!"

He stood there, looking just a tad bit flustered. Marik and Mai were still laughing around him, although Marik's laughter had died off a little. Mai was still giggling.

"You're too cute, honey," Mai repeated affectionately.

For a moment, Touzoku was still breathing rather harshly, trying to get the color to drain out of his cheeks. However, as soon as he started to calm himself down, his eyes twinkled a little bit with growing mischevousness. Mai was too busy looking all smug and smirky to notice though.

"Just adora-MPH!"

Catching her totally off-guard, Touzoku had swept Mai right against the bar, catching her tightly with his body. His arms gripped the bar on both sides of Mai, trapping her, his lips crushed against hers, eyes closed. For a moment, Mai's eyes grew wide, but briefly they glazed over as Touzoku's mouth began to move slowly against hers. In fact, Mai came this close to closing her eyes too, before recognition sparked across her face, and she smacked Touzoku's in response.

"Damn you, Touzoku!"

But Touzoku wasn't the least bit fazed. In fact, when his face came around to meet hers, he was sporting the most smug grin ever.

"Was there anything _adorable _about _that_, Kujaku?" he asked, his voice low and sexy. Mai looked flustered for a moment, before her other hand came up to hit him again; this time he caught it, grin growing even wider.

"I thought not."

For a moment, Mai looked like as if she was furious enough to kick him in the crotch, but then, her annoyed expression faded. She tore her hand away from his. Snorting, she turned away from him, looking over her shoulder as she crossed her arms across her breasts defiantly.

"Not bad," she admitted, smirking. Her fingers came up to distantly touch her slightly-puffy lips. "..._Damn_, Touzoku."

Touzoku looked extremely pleased with himself. From behind him, Marik's was making the most amusing expressions - those caught between shock, embarrasement, and amusement. Mostly shock. Touzoku snickered.

"Now...unless you want to do more than that tonight..." Touzoku's smirk became smug again, "...I think we should probably go. Bakura's going to throw a fit if we don't get out soon."

Right on cue, there was a sharp honk of a horn. Touzoku's grinned again. "And there he is..."

Mai snorted again. "Shoo!" she waved her hand at him. "Get away from here, you tall, sexy pervert, you..."

Touzoku laughed cockily, before striding towards the door. "See you next week, Mai!"

Shaking his head, Marik followed after Touzoku. Passing by Mai, he nodded at her goodnight, finally recomposing himself.

Mai smirked and stopped Marik too. But Marik immediately gave her a _gaze_ that clearly stated that he was not interested.

"No thank you, Kujaku," he smirked, amethyst eyes turning dark and indifferent. "You've already had one tall sexy pervert tonight..."

Bursting out in indignant laughter, Mai gave Marik very unlady-like shove. "Get out of my sight, Ishtar."

Marik laughed, a deep, low, and hard laugh, and climbed up the steps towards the door. "With pleasure, Kujaku."

Mai merely rolled her eyes in retort, watching as the solemnest of the three finally left the establishment. Sighing, Mai collapsed onto a barstool.

They had been her best customers for nearly five years now. Mai smiled softly. _The fun times you spend with those three...The Fiery one, the Bitter one, and the Tall, Dark and Dangerous one..._

Mai's smile disappeared, and in its replacement, her smirk returned. Reluctantly, she brought her fingers up to her lips again. Her mind fleetingly thought of the _'Fiery' _one and the kiss he had left.

"_Damn _he's a good kisser," Mai whispered to herself.

* * *

"Finally," Ryou breathed. It was nearly eleven at night now, and only now did Malik finally decided to leave the bar. Exhausted, Ryou climbed onto the motorbike after Malik; safely attaching his helmet, Ryou then securely wrapped his arms around Malik's waist, waiting for the blond to go home.

But the blond was still for a moment, as though in deep thought. Ryou looked over Malik's shoulder hesitantly, not sure if Malik was just going to trick him into letting his gaurd down and then veering off the road like crazy. "Malik?"

Malik smiled and looked over his shoulder. "Ready?"

Ryou nodded. "Yep." He tightened his hold on Malik. "What's up? You seem a little distant. Tired from all that dancing?"

Malik grinned. "Well, that too." He revved up the engine. "Hey...you know that singer tonight? The one who sang in Japanese or whatever?"

"Yeah?" asked Ryou.

"Do we know him?"

Ryou thought about it a bit. "Maybe," he said slowly. "I think he's the school conductor, acutally..."

"Conductor?" Malik repeated blankly.

Ryou shrugged. "I'm not sure either." The white-haired boy snuggled closer to his friend. "My room is on the other side of the school - and the band room - I only hear from the school conductor whenever we have an Assembly, and even then, I don't see him very often."

Malik nodded. "That explains it," he said. "I never go to those Assemblies."

"You should," Ryou scolded lightly.

Malik snickered. "Maybe one day. When they're not so incredibly boring."

Ryou huffed and nudged Malik. "Let's just get home." A yawn followed that statement. "I'm ...really tired."

Malik laughed. "You are no party animal, Ryou, that's for sure."

The engine started, and the two slowly slid onto the main road. Halfway through their trip, Malik felt the other slowly slump against him, totally relaxed. Shaking his head, Malik carefully placed a hand over Ryou's at his waist, making the sure the other wouldn't fall off. Thankfully, Ryou was still partially awake- there was that soft mumble against his back.

Smiling, Malik took a right turn, and the two of them headed home after an exciting, exhausting night.

* * *

Ouch, my hand hurts. For this reason, the ending was a little crappy, but that's alright, it wasn't important anyways.

The banter in this chapter was not as good, mostly cause I'm acutally not a very humorous person by day, so this was a little weird. I kinda wanted just to show their fun quirky side before showing their real in-characterness...Marik will end up becoming a bit more serious, I promise. He's actually really dark in comparison to Touzoku and Bakura in here, but that's only if he's seen alone, and not by those who are familiarto him (like Touzoku and Bakura.)

Anyways I hope you guys all enjoyed this so far...please read adn review!! it fuels faster and quicker chapters!

For those who want the Japanese lyrics, just look up Automatic by Hikaru Utada. I've changed the translations a little to fit the song, but they all mean the same time. I've just added words like "so" and "a lot" and stuff like that. Not anythign too significant. I was listening to the Remix actually; the real song is much slower.

READ AND REVIEW!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

After the rather eventful Friday night, the rest of the weekend was remarkably boring in comparison. The weekend passed quickly, mostly because Bakura had disappeared to his basement to compose with a cup of tea,(he owned his own flat, unlike Touzoku and Marik.), Marik woke up late and began to mark (he liked to keep on top of his work, no sense delaying it last minute.) and Touzoku had a very bad hangover, slept in until five to three (as predicted), scrambled out in five minutes flat to get to his practice. (On his way, he had spilled Marik's coffee all over Bakura's floor. Bakura had not been the least bit pleased, and had poured himself another cup of tea.)

The rest of the weekend continued in such a manner. Occasionally they got together to watch a horror movie or two, before disappearing off to do their own little things. Touzoku had left sometime early Sunday morning because Marik and Bakura were "too boring" - so the eldest left to the nearest basketball court to have a little fun.

Sunday night flew by, and Monday morning arose. The three of them, Monday morning, arrived at their usual time(s): Marik first, at 7:30 AM and no earlier, no later; Touzoku last, nearly 3 minutes late for his first class; and Bakura somewhere in between, as no one ever really knew when Bakura got to school, he was always so illusory about it.

Thus, another week started, as normally as it always did. No change, no alternations, nothing out of the ordinary as another day at Westhall continued.

* * *

Monday morning

7:17 AM

Ryou was late. Really really really late.

After Friday night, he and Malik had spent a lot of time over the weekend at movies, arcades, and playing board games together. (Ryou was a huge fan of RPG board games so they spent most of Saturday doing that.) But that meant that Ryou's workload of marking and lesson-planning was left until Sunday to do - while he had finished, he had went to bed at around two in the morning. Thus, he woke up late for once, and was scrambling around like crazy on a Monday morning to get things prepared.

Eggs, bacon and hash browns were sizzling in the pan as he gathered his folders (neat, of course, but they were beginning to get mussed up from him panicking.) He stuffed his bag full of files and books, before piling everything else up that didn't manage to fit. The eggs began to burn - Ryou quickly took off the pan and shut off the oven, before shoving all the breakfast goodies onto a plate.

He didn't have any time for breakfast. Hectically,he threw on his coat, his bag, and gathered up his huge pile of books, files and paper. Lastly, he grabbed his thermos and stacked it on top of his books. Hastily, he gathered his things and sped out of his flat.

* * *

7:50 AM

Westhall Boarding School

Professor Marik Ishtar was a very serious man. While most students admired him, there was always something strangely authoritative about his atmosphere. He was the type who spoke little unless it was with someone of familiar acquaintance, and when he did speak, he possessed a deep, low voice that could either mimic that of a godly figure or a deadly villain.

Outside educational atmosphere though, Marik knew himself to be a very indifferent man. He knew he was extremely determined, masterfully authoritative, but emotionally-wise, he couldn't care less about one thing from another. He knew he liked girls, fine wine and food, and dancing. He also knew he **didn't like **eating meat, he **didn't like **cute things, and especially, **really didn't like** things that were out of his control.

He also knew, on a subconscious level, that he was also an extremely dominant man.

On a personal level, Marik also knew he was also very dark. He tried not to let his darker aura show at school - after all, he had to be at least partially sociable to work here. However, among himself and perhaps his closest acquaintances (-cough- Bakura and Touzoku -cough-) Marik was well aware of how his dominant side and darker side co-mingled. And Marik was perfectly fine with that.

Thus, Marik didn't quite care what others thought of him. This was simply the way he was, and there was nothing to discuss about it. Personally, Marik believed, just _ignoring _his personality quirks _entirely _could save a lot of people pain and sanity.

Therefore, Marik had a lot of things that he didn't like. He **didn't like **faking, **didn't like **ass-kissing, and most of all, **didn't like** close, emotional contact. Overall, Marik had no exact hatred for emotional contact, but he always thought it was an unneccesary thing and managed to live quite fine without it. Marik liked living fine without it.

This, being Marik's dark and indifferent psychology, obviously made him very anti-social, with the exceptions of dancing and hanging out at bars (-cough Friday night cough-). But of course, Marik never really cared for those instances anyway - any girl he did happen upon never stayed long enough to even be close to emotionally attachable.

On this particular Monday morning, Marik was in the staff room, sipping his coffee and reading the newspaper. He was dressed in his best workshirt and tie, and smart canvas-colored pants. He looked up at the clock: 7:50 AM. He looked back at his newspaper. Good. He had at least twenty minutes before he had to leave to get to class. Class started at 8:15AM at Westhall.

Another thing Marik liked: control.

Fifteen minutes passed, and Marik slid away his newspaper, finished his coffee, and left the staff room for his classroom. He had ten good whole minutes to get there. Since Marik didn't like people either, he took a deserted route to class. Most of the students were in class by now, anyways. Being so much as a second late cost them multiple disciplines: detention, cleaning the room, hallway, etc. So most of the studetns were already in class, awaiting their teachers.

Yes, Marik liked control. He liked meeting dangerous ends, just to prove that he...yes he, Marik Ishtar, ...could overcome it like -snap- that.

Unfortunately, Marik was thinking too distantly to notice a blurry of someone turning around the corner. In the span of a second, something collided into him; books, papers, and files flew in a flurry that resembled a mushroom cloud as the two strangers crashed onto the floor.

It all happened so fast. Marik was still trying to figure out whether he should sock the person or whether to stand up first _then _sock the person. Most likely some stupid little student that was late for class -

Something splashed onto Marik's shirt. It was hot. It was sticky.

Marik froze.

It was on his _good shirt!!_

"OH MY GOODNESS!"

The chaos cleared, and Marik shook his head. He scowled lightly at the person who was interferring with his personal space. He was about to tell this person off when he realized who he was looking at.

Marik was stunned.

Lying on top of him, arms on either side, was a...he? She? Marik honestly couldn't tell.

That was when the ...person...decided to slip on the floor again. The stranger slid forward and landed onto Marik's chest clumsily. Marik's eyes shot open from the brief contact their pelvises experienced..._oh yeah that was a guy._

So it was a young male ...but what a stunning young male he was. Long white hair spilled over his shoulders and into his large, deep brown eyes. His slim frame was donning a caramel sweater with stripes of a nice, complimentary tan and yellow shade. His white-collared shirt underneat was rolled up at the sleeves to his elbows, revealing delicately thin arms.

Marik blinked up into those eyes. They shone and glimmered with something akin to urgency, but Marik couldn't help but stare at them.

Those eyes - big, wide, and brown. They were frantically blinking from side to side, trying to figure out what was going on. A sense of panic aroused in those eyes as they futher flickered from one side to the next. The pale cheeks were flushed pink. The long white hair, Marik noticed, was tied loosely in a pony-tail. Marik arched an eyebrow at the pony-tail. He wondered briefly if the boy had ever let his hair loose before.

The boy's eyes suddenly locked onto his, and widened as big as saucers. The pink cheeks flushed red and the boy struggled to get off.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry -

Marik looked down on his shirt.

"...You stained my shirt," he said simply.

Ryou moaned silently to himself. How embarrassing!!! Here he was, sprawled out on the floor on top of some ..._other man!_...and he had spilled his thermos on the other!!

The white-haired one began to panic, scrambling to get all his papers and books into one arm and trying to apologize by waving the other.

"Oh!! Ohmygoodness, I'm so sorry - Here, let me clean that up for you -"

The thinner one instinctively grabbed a napkin and leapt forward to wipe at the other's shirt; but a tanned, strong hand flew from out of nowhere, and grabbed the Ryou's arm, nearly snapping it.

Immediately, Ryou gasped in pain and released his grip on the napkin. He turned his eyes up to the blond-haired man, wondering detachedly about the frighteningly fast reflex the man possessed.

Those amethyst eyes remained on his, unblinkling, unmovingly. Those beautiful eyes were half-lidded, yet focused at the same time, as though the other was eying him with the same amount of interest as one does when passing by sign on the road. The grip lessened slightly, but barely.

The grip suddenly disappeared. "Excuse me," the other said abruptly. He pushed Ryou off of him, and sat up properly. "Personal space and all that jazz."

Ryou smiled weakly at the other's attempt at humor - though it was very dry.

"I understand," Ryou bent down to pick up the rest of his junk. "Oh...oh dear," Ryou began to scramble on the floor agian. "Oh dear - thank goodness I numbered this pages..."

Marik was about to stand, but seeing the smaller one still on the floor in a desperate attempt to pick up his papers, Marik sighed and remained as he was. The smaller one was frantic about picking up his papers- rolling his eyes discreetly, Marik swiped out one hand gracefully and slid all the papers into his hand. The smaller one paused and looked up, his wide, big brown eyes at the stack of paper Marik now offered.

"Here." He thrusted the papers to the younger male, startling him. "I'm afraid I can't help you with the numbering of your pages - " He started to stand. "I should get going now - I will be late."

The younger one stood up quickly too, albet clumsily. The cloud of papers, folders, books and thermos were still all balanced haphazardly in his arms. Despite the craziness of the situation, Marik distinctly found himself finding the white-haired male almost...cute.

The younger one blushed, a pretty pink color that somehow matched his eyes. When he spoke, he was stuttering most adorably.

"OH!! Ohmygosh, you're right, I'm sorry- I didn't mean to detain you - Eeep!"

The open thermos came flying once more; thankfully, Marik caught the airborne hell-raiser before it did anymore damage.

"Does your ...insurance cover all this?" Marik asked, smirking when the white-haired one nearly stumbled in an attempt to reorganize the things in his hands.

"Ha ha, very funny," the younger male struggled to pack his papers into a folder. "Ohmygosh-good grief, I --"

"Here." Losing some of his patience, Marik gave up trying to be polite and shoved the white-haired male to the side of the wall. Heaters ran along the side of the school, and thankfully they were rectangular-shapped, which made seating very convient. It was upon these heaters that Marik shoved the younger one onto, before taking the mess of things and dropped them onto the heater, beginning to sort them out.

In a very definite and commanding manner, the blond-haired teacher then began to sort through Ryou's things - books here, coffee there, papers there, folders here. Even though the papers weren't in the right order, they soon were straightened, thrown in randomly in a folder, and the folder was then stacked between two heavy books. Finally, like topping off ice-cream with a cherry, he added the nearly-empty thermos cup at the very top of the pile.

"There." He stood back. "There you go." He slid the things over to Ryou, who met them with open arms. "Good?"

Ryou lifted his head to gaze at the teacher, embarrassedly. "Yes...yes, thank you." Ryou then stood up, balancing everything in a much more ordered fashion. The cup came up to just under his eyes. "Sorry about the mess -"

"It's no problem," Marik said succinctly. Ryou blushed agian and shyly held out his hand.

"...Er...I'm Ryou Whyte," he blushed again and was thankful for the books that were hiding his face.

The man took his hand in a firm but very brief shake. "Ishtar," the other said shortly. He stopped a little and gazed at Ryou a little. "...English Department, I'm assuming?"

Ryou nodded. "Er...yeah, I am." He felt his face going warm again and ducked a little behind his books. "Pleased to meet you."

Marik nodded before taking off his jacket and flipping his tie over his shoulder. "Nice to meet you too," he said offhandedly. "Listen, I really hate to cut this short, but my class is waiting. You sure you can handle from here to the Language Wing?"

"Er..." Actually Ryou was very doubtful, but if he was careful, he guessed he could make it. "Yeah. Yeah I can."

Marik nodded indifferently, looking much more concerned about his shirt. "Alright then. Well - I'll see you later."

Not even waiting for a goodbye from Ryou, Marik began walking in the other direction, analyzing his shirt. Gaining his senses, Ryou turned around to call out (the books swayed dangerously in his arms). "Wait! Wait!"

Marik stopped and turned around, amethyst eyes slightly annoyed. "Yes?"

Ryou carefully stepped around, so his books wouldn't fall over. "What shirt size are you?!"

Marik blinked, totally surprised. "Excuse me?"

"What shirt size are you?"

"..." Marik looked at his own shirt now, stained. "..Medium?" he answered, wondering what the hell was going on here.

"And your favourite color?"

"...Black," Marik answered again, beginning to be totally confused. "What -"

"Thank you!" Ryou smiled brightly and nodded his head. He turned around and began to hurry off. "Sorry for making you late!" The white-haired male continued down the hall, before turning the corner. "Goodbye!"

And there, in the middle of the hall, poor Marik was standing. Even though the boy was long gone, Marik raised a hand, and gave a hesitant wave.

"...Yeah...bye?"

The rest of the day cotinued as ordinary. By the end of the day, Marik had _almost_ forgotten that he had met the English teacher that morning.

* * *

Tuesday

1:45 PM, Period 3

Mathematics Class

Marik Ishtar

A knock came on his classroom door. Looking up, Marik paused from his marking - his students were working steadily on their homework assignment. Frowning lightly, Marik stood up and walked briskly to the door - none of the students were distracted, thankfully. The lesson was hard enough as is without any other disruptions.

Arching his eyebrow, Marik turned the knob and opened the door. He expected to see someone at face-level, perhaps Touzoku demanding to borrow another T-shirt because he had violated the school dress code again, but actually, when Marik first opened the door, nothing met him face to face.

It was then when he heard the softest of shoe-scruffles that he looked down just a fraction. The English teacher of the day-before was looking up at him, looking awkwardly shy and holding a package in his hands.

"Marik Ishtar?"

Marik immediately scowled, but he was a little surprised at the male who was standing before him.

"Ishtar. Professor Ishtar."

The boy - ...Ryou Whyte, was his name? - immediately blushed and bowed his head.

"Excuse me...Professor Ishtar." He looked a little past Marik and the doorframe. "Ah...I'm not disrupting anything, am I?"

"Huh? Oh no." Marik quickly closed the door. "...No. Of course not." He made sure the door was securely shut, and then turned back to the English teacher. "So. What precisely is the importance of this...special occasion?"

The English teacher looked up at him, before laughing a little shyly. He held out the package.

"This - er...well, this is for ..." The boy took a deep breath, as he seemed rather flustered. "About yesterday...I'm terribly sorry about the spilling and the ruining of your shirt. These..." The boy held them out to Marik. "...These are for you."

Totally surprised, Marik took the package warily into his hand. Arching an eyebrow, he unwrapped it - lying in his hands were two medium work shirts - one black, and one white. They were folded and wrapped immacuately.

Marik raised his other eyebrow. This had come totally out of nowhere and Marik wasn't entirely sure what to say.

"Ah." He looked at them for a little bit, trying to figure out how to answer. "...Well, you didn't have to, really." He looked up to the boy again. "Really. The shirt's fine. It's just coffee."

"It was um...hot chocolate, actually," Ryou corrected.

"Hot chocolate?" Marik repeated. "Oh, that makes it loads better now. Rather than hot, tangy, bean-drained coffee, my shirt is now soaked with hot, sugary lovey-dovey sweetness!" Marik was about to continue, but when he saw Ryou's partially disappointed look, he decided to stop. "You like hot chocolate?" Marik asked, never actually having tasted hot chocolate before.

Ryou looked up. "Oh..yes, yes I do!" His big brown eyes twinkled as he smiled happily. "Yes - I love hot chocolate."

"You're not a coffee person?"

Ryou shook his head. "No, not really - I do drink it sometimes, but I'm not one for much caffeine..."

Marik nodded a little. He looked down at the shirts, all immaculate and neatly folded, just like he liked it. "Well...thank you," he said, gesturing to the shirts. Ryou blushed and shook his head.

"It's alright," Ryou assured. "I hope they fit you well though - if not, the receipts inside...if they don't fit or anything, you can always go back to get something a little more, you know, for you..."

Marik arched his eyebrow. "...Yeah, well, I'll see," he said, tucking the shirts under his arm. "Well, listen, I have to..."

"Have you ...washed the shirt from yesterday?" Ryou asked suddenly. Marik arched his other eyebrow, making both of them disappear into his hairline.

"...No, I was planning to take it to the dry-cleaner's..."

"Oh no, you shouldn't," Ryou said quickly. "Dry-cleaners are notoriously expensive for something so small...if you still have it, I could wash it for you -"

"_You _can wash it for _me_?" Marik repeated, totally dumbfounded. "Whatever for-?"

"Chocolate stains are really easy to get out," Ryou explained. "Well, with this little trick I do at home - baking soda really helps with stains like those -"

Marik leaned against the doorframe, slightly amused now. "So what, are you a housekeeper by night or something?" Ryou looked up blankly. "Teacher's pay not good enough?"

Here, Ryou flushed, laughing shyly a little. "Er...no no, really - it's just...I find I save more money cleaning my stuff on my own, rather than bringing them to the dry-cleaner's, or waiting for the school custodian to take another load of laundry..." Ryou looked up again at Marik. "If you want, I could um...drop by later today, after school - and maybe pick it up - I promise I'll have it cleaned by tomorrow..."

Marik was having a bit of a hard time processing all this at once. "Sure, I guess," he said, answering the first thing that came to mind. "Although, I have some work to do, and the shirt is in my room..." He was referring to his teacher-residence room in the teacher dormitories. Like students, teachers had their own offices and living spaces in the school. Since Marik and Touzoku were fine with living in the school this way, they did so. Bakura, on the other hand, apparently detested living amongst the 'people of the living' (quote Touzoku), so he had his own flat.

"I can stop by your room and pick it up," Ryou assured. "What room number is it?"

Marik frowned, actually not liking it when people came to visit him in his apartment. "...You know what?" Marik stood up straight. "It's alright, really. I can just pick it up later and drop it off here after school - I have a spare next, anyways."  
"You sure?" Ryou inquired.

Marik rolled his eyes. "I said it was alright, didn't I?"

Slowly, Ryou broke into a smile. He laughed a little bit.

"Yes, alright." He looked over his shoulder. "I really should get going now...my class is working in groups but I'm not sure it's a good idea."

Marik straightened from his leaning-against-the-wall. "Oh of course." He looked back at his door too. "I suppose I should head back to my class as well."

Ryou smiled. "Yes. Sorry for bothering you." Nodding his head a little bit, Ryou held out his hand. Marik merely looked at it - Ryou quickly took it back.

"Oh. Right." Ryou blushed a little. "Personal space and all that jazz."

Here, Marik couldn't help but smirk a teensy weensy bit. "Yeah."

Giggling, Ryou nodded his head again, before bowing a little. "Well...Have a good day, Professor Ishtar." He turned to leave.

"Hey." Marik called. Ryou turned around, stopping briefly. His brown eyes looked at Marik puzzedly.

"Yes?"

"You're that teacher who's teaching in the girl's wing too, aren't you?" Marik smirked. Here, Ryou blushed, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Er...yes, I am."

Chuckling to himself, Marik shook his head.

"Not that I teach the girls, but I hear you have your own fanclub. Is that true?"

The English teacher's eyes bulged out. Apparently even he didn't know that was true or not.

"I have my own.._fanclub_?" the teacher repeated, mortified. Marik laughed.

"I just heard down the grapevine, don't take my word for it."

Ryou made a face. "I think...I better go."

Marik laughed. "Yeah. See you."

Hastily, Ryou hurried off, quickly returning to his class. Putting the girls into groups better not have given them the inspiration to start their own fanclub...

* * *

A/N: Kinda a weak place to leave it off, but my finger was hurting quite badly by the end of this...so here's Chapter Four of Ore no Gakuen. FINALLY some MarikxRyou confrontations, etc.

Thank you for all the reviews so far and please continue to read and review! They encourage updating this fic faster!!!!!

-AphroditeLove


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Wedsnday Evening

7:00 PM, Teachers Dormitories

Room 512

Marik Ishtar

It was a Wedsnday night, and Marik was merely preparing supper. His little dwelling was composed of an attached office (with a seperate door leading out to the hallway), a bathroom (tub, shower, toilet and sink, all the necessities.), a small dining area that sort of merged with the kitchen (a stove, a mini-fridge, sink, counter and table.) and his bedroom/living room. It appeared much like a bachelor suite, which fitted Marik's needs quite fine.

On this particular Wedsnday night, Marik was setting up the stove for some light cooking. Okay, well, Marik actually had no idea how to cook very well - he wasn't exactly what you would call a 'culinary expert.' Hence, tonight he was eating yet another round of RAMEN (a boxful as a gift from Bakura - authentic Japanese Ramen and not that terrible English-dubbed stuff.) and some vegetables. Touzoku was on his way over from room 522, since Touzoku was an even worse cook than Marik (the only thing that man knew how to do was a damn good BBQ.).

The school technically served very good food - a feast, one could call it - every night at 6:00PM for supper in the Main Hall. The Main Hall was ...just that, a great long hall that was filled with tables. One side was reserved for the boys, the other side for the girls, and up at the front, there was a long table, just for teachers. It was here where most students and teachers gathered for their meals. From 6:30 -7:45 breakfast was served. At 12:00 lunch was served, and at 6:00 there was dinner. Normally both Marik and Touzoku preferred to eat in the Main Hall - the food was rather good; but tonight, Marik had too much work to do and missed dinner. Hence, here he was, waiting for Touzoku (who was practicing again.) with some good old Bakura-approved-Japanese-Ramen.

While waiting for the noodles to boil and for his friend to arrive, Marik began to wander around his little apartment aimlessly. He entered his living room/ bedroom (sofa-bed, wheee!) and that's when he noticed the three shirts lying on his bed.

The two were the ones from the store- one white and one black; they weren't even unfolded yet, still in their packaging. The other was his own good shirt, clean, good as new, lying folded oh-so-neatly and just-the-way-he-liked-it on the bed.

The image of the boy who took them floated into his head. During lunch, Ryou had stopped off the dirtied shirt back at Marik's classroom. Marik hadn't been around to accept it; he merely found the shirt, bagged, packaged, stuck to the front of his door with a sticky note that said "From Whyte."

In a great span of less than two days, Marik's usual route of normality was being jarred. He took it as another challenge though - after all, life popped up with many things that he couldn't control. Like his father dying, for instance.

Marik scowled at the mere thought of his father. He turned away from the shirts and went back into the kitchen, picking up a knife and snapping a block of noodles violently.

Yes...that idiot of a father...

He left the knife on the table, and returned to his bed. Slumping onto it, he stared at the shirts - what exactly was he supposed to do with those? It wasn't as if he wanted to show the boy he wanted to get close or anything...

Then again, English customs were stranger than Egyptian's sometimes. Perhaps if he didn't wear them, the boy would be offended. ...But then why would Marik care about the boy being offended anyways?

At that last statement, Marik sort of came to his decision. Perhaps if he just left the boy alone and never saw him again, perhaps nothing will happen.

_But do you want - _

A knock came on Marik's door, interrupting his thought. The knock, though, was extremely short and was followed by a burst of the door slamming open. Marik didn't even need to look up to know that Touzoku had made his entrance.

"Man what a practice!" Touzoku exclaimed, not even so much as a 'hello' in greeting. "I swear, some of these kids have forgotten how to shoot balls over the weekend..." Here, Touozoku stopped, then snickered. "Heh heh, shooting balls...that reminds me..."

"Don't," Marik held up a hand, but he was smirking. "No more with the perverted jokes of Touzoku-bad-assness."

"Aw," Touzoku 'whined', punching Marik lightly in the arm. "You're no fun. Who else am I going to gloat to when I have someone to shoot balls with?"

"Don't. Even. Go there." Marik stood up and wandered into the kitchen. Touzoku smirked.

"Aw, the itty bitty bachelor hasn't found a heart-cock companion."

Marik shook his head at the randomness of his friend. "And you have, excuse me?"

"Of course not," Touzoku snorted, sitting himself down on Marik's sofa-bed. "I just like teasing you to see if you even bother trying to knock it up with someone."

"There's really not many people available in our vicinity," Marik replied, sliding in the noodles into the pot. Touzoku sniffed the air -

"Noodles!"

"Yes, Touzoku. Noodles."  
"Hey, you got any of that veggie-burger stuff? Or some of that tofu-turkey? I could roast that if you want."

Marik shook his head. "Hell no. You're not charring my food."

Touzoku snorted in response, and Marik distinctly heard the sound of the other landing on his bed. A crinkle of plastic.

"...Dude. New shirts? I thought we weren't going shopping till the end of this month."

Marik put the lid onto the boiling pot. "Shit. No, those aren't new shirts."

"Judging from the packaging and the barcode at the corner, I'd say they're new."

"No." Marik came back out to snatch those things back.

"Oh? Then who are they from?" Touzoku asked, suddenly interested. "Last time I checked, our budget wasn't entirely good for fifty-dollar shirts apiece."

"It's nothing." Marik chucked the shirts into his closet. Touzoku snorted in disbelief.

"Yeah right. You better not be hoarding any of our money. I may not get finances, but I worked my ass off getting that money-"

"Shut up already," Marik rolled his eyes. "I haven't been hoarding our money - it's sitting in the bank, the emergency provisions are in a safety deposit box in my room - you can go check, if you still have the key, dimwit, - and everything else we have is split." He heard the pot rattling, and slid it off the stove, shutting it off.

"So what, they were a gift?" Marik really didn't like the sneaky tint Touzoku's voice was sporting.

"...I guess you could call it that."

A burst of triumphant laughter from the other room.

"HA! And you tell me you haven't been living the scene. Who have you been shooting balls with, huh?"

"Is it everyday occurance a girl gives a man shirts for a night of sex?" Marik asked sarcastically. Touzoku thought about it.

"Unless you were an idiot enough to leave you shirt there with her..."

"Oh shut up." Marik chucked some Ramen at Touzoku's head - the eldest merely ducked easily and caught it in his hand.

"Hn. Ramen." He inspected it. "Huh. Must be authentic Japanese. I can't read it." He looked up at Marik again. "These are the ones Bakura gave you for your last b-day?"

Marik nodded.

"Huh." Touzoku snorted and crushed the bag in his hands alone. "Figures. I think his present to me for my last b-day was a candle."

"It's the thought that counts," Marik retorted, grabbing the pot. He walked back to the "living room", picking up two bowls and forks along the way. He threw these items at Touzoku, who caught them deftly in his hands, before putting the pot on the bed.

"You spill one fucking thing, you're hanging from my ceiling fan again, you got it?" Marik threatened. Touzoku snorted and swore in return.

"Fuck off. I won't ruin your precious bedspread."

Scowling, Marik eyed Touzoku as the other began to drip noodles into his bowl. Touzoku noticed Marik staring and sarcastically held up a pinky as he forked up some more noodles.

"How's this, _Oh Ra-ful Godly One?_"

Marik snorted and was _thiiis_ close to hitting Touzoku across the head, but then remembered that Touzoku had a bowl of noodles and soup in his hand, so instead, Marik controlled himself and decided on hitting Touzoku later.

"So." Touzoku leaned back against the headboard as Marik helped himself. "Where did all these shirts come from, if you didn't buy them?"

"They were a gift," Marik said shortly.

Touzoku made a noise of disbelief before slurping his noodles loudly. "Uh huh. And who were they from?"

Marik growled lowly under his throat. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Of course it's not," Touzoku admonished, in an almost cheery voice. "But I just love poking fun into your personal life - you know. Cause you're always so uptight and all."

"Excuse me?" Marik actually laughed in disbelief. "Me? Uptight?"

"Well, when it comes to relationships," Touzoku slurped some more. "I mean, come on. You haven't had a decent date since like, what, when we moved here? And that doesn't count - you know, the girls we pick up once in a while. That totally doesn't count."

"They weren't that interesting anyways," Marik replied lazily, picking up a slip of green onion and flicking it away. "An occasional fuck is fine."

"I don't know...'occasional' doesn't sound like an appealing word." Touzoku crammed another mouthful into his mouth.

"Well, sex-wise, your only vocabulary consists 'every minute of every day,' so..." Marik turned back to his food. "What about you? Found someone you're interested in yet?"

"Not really." Touzoku helped himself to another bowl (yes he ate that quickly.) "Most women want committment around here. I can't give that."

Marik chuckled. "For once, you're entirely right."

Touzoku shook his head. "Whatever. So." Changing gears back quickly again, Touzoku leaned back against the headboard and gazed at Marik seriously. "Hm. Whyte, was it?"

Marik immediately scowled. "Excuse me?"

Touzoku smirked when he noticed that he had gotten a rise from the other. "Ah. I was right. You know, despite the fact my attention span seems to be fucking short, I'm not dumb." Touzoku's red-brown eyes mischeivously flickered to the closet door. "You ought to be more subtle if you want to hide something from me, Ishtar."

Marik narrowed his eyes at Touzoku. "As if knowing the giver of my shirts has any meaning at all. So? Whyte could have been anyone. Not meaning that I'm interested in him or anything."

"A him?" Touzoku repeated, laughing. "Hmn...interesting."

"Oh shut up," Marik scowled. "Apparently I still have the Ishtar touch if I can get some boy to buy me expensive shirts."

"Hn, yeah," Touzoku admitted. "Although, I think Puffhead giving you shirts is different than all those times you suckered the mothers into giving us food."

"It was your fault you broke your ankle that time and couldn't steal," Marik said darkly. "I told you not to go that way..."

"I got the goods faster, what more can I say?" Touzoku waved the subject away. "And my ankle's fine now, anyways."

The two lapsed into silence, as they usually did when they recalled the times when they were younger. The silence was a bit long, before Marik finally turned back to warily stare at Touzoku. He picked up his fork and began to eat again.

"What did you call Whyte?"

"You mean Puffhead?"

Marik abruptly stopped eating and looked up again. He gave Touzoku a flat, dead-panned look.

"Puff_what?_"

"Puffhead," Touzoku repeated again, stuffing more noodles into his mouth while still watching Marik. "I've never told you about Puffhead?"

Marik made a face. "I'm quite certain you didn't," he said, wrinkling his nose. Touzoku frowned.

"That's funny. I'm pretty sure I-"

"So how did you meet him, anyways?" Marik interrupted Touzoku loudly. "It's not like as if you normally have acquaintances among the English department, do you?"

Touzoku's frown deepened in thought. "No...I didn't meet him in sch--"

Immediately, Marik frowned. "You didn't meet him in school? Then where the heck did you -"

"Oh. Yeah. Right. I totally forgot." Touzoku immediately crammed more noodles into his mouth, muffling his voice. "Yeah, I met him at school."

Marik scowled supsiciously. "...Really."

"Really." Touzoku looked up, beginning to smirk. "So what... Puff- excuse me_, Whyte,_ gave you these shirts? Well." Satisfied, Touzoku leaned back against the headbaord again, smirking triumphantly.

"I guess now I know why you've always liked purple."

* * *

Wedsnday Evening

9:00 PM, Main Office

Malik Ishtal.

Malik was heading towards the main office. It's lights were dimmed, as the secretaries had all left. All the teachers' mailboxes were inside- Malik wanted to pick up any last minute homework assignments from his students before he started marking. He was a really nice teacher that way.

Today, Malik had discarded his purple vest and black pants - instead, he was wearing a simple short-sleeved black collared shirt, with a white tie to match his khaki pants. Gold hung from his ears, neck, and wrists. The students always enjoyed his new accessories from Egypt - each piece of jewlery was linked to some sort of crazy Egyptian history, which Malik was very proud of. His clan, after all, back in Egypt, had been tomb keepers. Their clan, along with the nearby clan of the Tau, the tomb-makers, were the ones who protected the pyramids for millenniums.

Malik's major was in Egyptology. He also had a minor in History in general - hence, he was Westhall's history teacher. Most of his students enjoyed his classes - he tried making every lesson a play or a story of some sort, because history was easier to remember if it appeared like a story. This suited Malik fine - he enjoyed acting, so during classes, he was very animated about his lessons.

All the kids liked him. He was a fair marker, usually really nice when it came to lates, and just in general, Malik had something about him. Most of the younger students were simply attracted to him. He had this skill with students. Perhaps it was because he was so young (twenty four), he could relate a lot easier. Perhaps it was because he was up to date in all the current popular teenage fads. Perhaps it was also because he had the looks and voice of a hot boy-band. That was what attracted the girls, anyways.

Along with Egyptology and history, Malik's other favourite thing was Japanese pop. It seemed strange at first, to see this tanned Egyptian boy liking Japanese pop, but when one thought about it...no, it wasn't that far off to see Malk spiking his hair that teensy bit, for him to dress up in hot leather, and for him to sing and dance like any other idol. Malik didn't understand a word of Japanese, but he liked the music and the dancing ---and the occasional really hot boys that screamed _gay. _

No one at Westhall knew Malik's orientation. Heck...even he didn't want to think about it sometimes.

Arriving at the office, Malik took out his keys and unlocked it. Through the windows, he saw another shadow- the shadow was standing in front of the mailboxes, reading something very intently. Malik wasn't afraid; it was most likely another teacher. Clicking open the door, Malik strode inside - the person apparently heard Malik and immediately stuffed the piece of paper in his pocket. Malik raised a quizzical eyebrow but said nothing.

"Hello-"

The other merely sped past him. In the short moment when their shoulders connected, Malik could see the eyes of the person passing by - red, narrow, intense, shielded with long, dark lashes, hidden beneath the bangs. Malik blinked, but before he could register what was going on, pain shot through his shoulder and he was knocked back.

"Hey! Excuse me!" Malik grabbed his shoulder idignantly and turned back to the person, who was striding quickly and forcefully away. "OI! You! Get back here! That was rude!!"

The person stopped short of the door, and silkily turned around. Malik saw in the dim light long, layered white-...blond?...hair (it had to blond, no one had hair that white...) spilling past slim shoulders. Red eyes turned onto him under the bangs, but the man's expression was dead flat.

Malik was even more pissed off that the man wasn't replying.

"I said...that was rude! At the very least, you should apologize."

The man was silent. Malik bristled.

"Look, I said..."

"Forgive me." The two words slipped out, quick and easy. The man eyed Malik briefly and turned back around. He left the office without another word.

Properly offended, Malik merely stood there, very unhappy. Huffing, Malik turned back around.

"Some people," he muttered. He turned to his mailbox and slid out two, maybe three late assignments. He tucked them underneath his arm and was about to leave when he noticed a bright yellow slip stuck to the inside of his mailbox.

"...?" Malik reached in and pulled it out.

To Mr. Malik Ishtal of Westhall Boarding School

Congratulations. Your presence is required at the International Historical Gala this year. We are delighted to inform you that this year, a musical script of Beethoven has been discovered. On March the 13th, 2007, we will have a talented artist attempt to recompose the script for us. Perhaps this musical depth will allow the rest of us historians to have greater depth in the knowledge of the French Revolution.

Your attendance is mandatory. The conference will begin at 6:00 sharp. Enclosed is your ticket and a map to the Antoinette Chalet.

Best regards,

The International Historical Gala Committee.

Malik frowned. March the 13th? But that was...

"Oh no!" Malik crumpled the note and jammed it into his pocket. "That's a _Friday!"_"

* * *

Thursday

4:00 PM

Main Office

It was a Thursday afternoon now - every teacher had staff meetings on Thursdays with their department. Thankfully, they were finished now, hence why Marik was heading down to the main office to pick up his mail. After picking up his mail, he was then off to his classroom - some of the semestered classes had a midterm coming up, so now Marik had another session on Thursdays to tutor them. Kazuhiro had done well on his proofs exam, and was now Professor Ishtar's official Proof Helper.

On his way out the back door, Marik had to pass by the copier in the back. He was just about to open the door when someone by the copier caught his eye...

Ryou Whyte, that clumsy English teacher, was trying to copy what seemed like a large tower of files, but was apparently having difficulties. HIs long white hair was disheveled out of his ponytail, and his sleeves were rolled up. Marik caught sight of pale, slender arms attempting to squish the cover of the copier down. Jean-clad legs were spread for balance - Marik smirked. What a nice ass...

"Having a bit of trouble?" Marik asked, coming up behind Ryou. Startled, Ryou jumped up and accidentally bumped into Marik's chest. The white-haired one quicky turned around.

"Ah! Marik!" Ryou let out a sigh of relief. "Er! I mean - Professor Ishtar! You gave me such a fright!"

"Bit intense, are we?" Marik drawled. Ryou's cheeks briefly pinked, but he looked more defiant than embarrassed.

"It's this --- terrible copier," Ryou said, looking a little tired and exhausted. "It keeps on printing my pages slanted..."

"That's what it tends to do," Marik said, looking at the copier disdainfully.

Ryou sighed. "I can't wait for the school to get a new one - this old one's been here for decades!"

"No, it's just incompetent," Marik said. He eyed Ryou ...pouting? ... at the copier, and rolled his eyes. "Here." He shoved Ryou out of the way. "What do you want to copy?"

Ryou turned his big wide eyes on Marik again. "Huh?"

"What do you want to copy?" Marik repeated again.

Ryou furrrowed his eyebrows lightly. "Ah...well, it's just the seventh years' and their Extended Essays...It's all aligned but it won't copy straight."

"That's fine." Marik placed a hand on the side of the copier. "Now watch."

Shoving Ryou aside, Marik began to examine the copy machine. Obediently, Ryou stood back, watching as Marik looked here, prodded here, jiggled with the thing there. Anxiously, Ryou tried to look over Marik's shoulder, but to no avail -he couldn't tell what the other was doing.

Finally, Marik stepped back. He looked at Ryou like a mechanic would after a car-check up. Marik pointed a finger at the copier machine, his finger looking like a gun.

"That." He looked at Ryou again. "Is your problem."

Ryou followed Marik's finger with his eyes, but saw nothing out of the ordinary." ...Oh." Ryou said.

"And this," Marik stepped back; his right leg was pulled back a little, "is how you fix it."

_WHACK. _

"OH MY GOSH!!" Ryou spazzed. "Marik!! Did you just -"

"Give it a good kick, right there," Marik said, smirking. He patted the machine, which was beginning to whirl and click as if alive. "There. That should work."

Ryou looked disbelieving. Marik snorted and pressed the green button.

"Don't trust me?"

Three sheets of paper came shooting out onto the tray at the side. Immediately, Ryou rushed over to check the pages...

"Oh my gosh," Ryou repeated again. "They're _straight._"

He looked up at Marik in disbelief. Marik's smirk grew smug and he held out his hands.

"What can I say? I'm a genius."

* * *

4:26 PM

Random Hallway

Marik was still pleased when he had left Ryou at the copier's. The white-haired boy was so amazed that he had almost tentatively pushed the green button again to see if Marik wasn't fooling him. Marik wasn't. Ryou was overjoyed and looked like as if he came _thiiis _close to giving Marik a hug. Unfortunately, Marik had gotten distracted - a few students had come by asking him if he was going to open the door to his classroom soon. Remembering he had to tutor, Marik quickly left. As he left the main office, he looked back and saw Ryou gleefully pressing the green button over and over again, happy that the copier was finally doing something right.

He was walking down the hallway, feeling distinctly proud for showing off. He wasn't sure why, but he liked the look on Ryou's face when Ryou spazzed at him. It looked so dumbfounded that it was almost...cute.

Marik stopped himself. Did he just...find another man...cute?

Smirk wiping off entirely, Marik shook it off. No, really, it wasn't the time to get interested in a companion, even though Touzoku kept on insisting that he had to get laid sometime. Personally, Marik's orientation interests had never been a problem - sex was sex, lust was lust, no matter who it was. He had never given it a second thought and was always comfortable with his orientation.

Marik paused, and smirked thoughtfully. For a boy, Ryou had a really nice ass.

Turning around the corner, someone bumped into his side. Grumbling, Marik was not happy that this week _everyone _seemed to be bumping into him - although this time, it wasn't Ryou.

"Huh? Oh." Malik stepped to the side. "Ra, Marik, look where you're going."

"Excuse me?" Marik repeated. "Look where _I'm _going? I was looking perfectly fine until you come along, haphazardly, not even looking up-"

Malik rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He stopped and noticed a crumpled yellow note on the floor. "Oh sho-"

"What?" Marik saw Malik's gaze and picked up the yellow note before Malik could get at it. Malik was immediately indignant.

"Excuse me? Violating privacy!" Malik reached out to snatch it from Marik but Marik was too tall.

"Hm? What was that?" Marik asked sardonically. "I don't remember helping other people to pick up their trash was violating privacy."

Malik growled and looked as if he wanted to kick Marik very hard. "Give it back, jerkass."

"Ah, Malik, you're too kind to me," Marik smirked, ignoring the smaller one and uncrumpling the note. He read it much to Malik's annoyance, even holding it up above Malik's head and reading the note against the lights of the ceiling. Malik frowned and grumbled.

"...Friday night?" Marik snorted, lightly throwing the paper back at Malik. "Let me guess - you forgot about it entirely and then you left it last minute and now you have some pain-in-the-ass rescheduling to do?"

Malik bristled. "For your information, I got it last night," Malik said huffily.

Marik's smirk grew. "But I'm right about the last minute pain-in-the-ass rescheduling, aren't I?"

Malik scowled darkly at Marik. "Oh shut up."

Marik laughed, a somewhat hard sound. "So is that why you're looking so frazzled? Trying to get some last minute things done before Friday?"

Malik glared at Marik in response. "For your information, I'm actually rescheduling for a f_riend_."

"Huh. A friend," Marik repeated, as though he had rarely heard this word. "...What is it, one of those...what do you call...companions, am I right? The type of people who hang out with you because they 'like' you or actually enjoy your company..."

"Just because you were a psycopathic child and never had friends doesn't mean I can't," Malik said heatedly.

"And here I was thinking that you were getting a mail-order gay bride," Marik retorted back. Malik grimaced.

"Asshole!" Malik hissed, swinging out a leg. Marik stepped to the side coolly.

"So who's your little friend, if not a mail-order gay bride?" Marik asked conversationally. "It better not be that ass of a dog again ---"

"Shut up," Malik hissed again. "And it's not like it's any of your business."

"Why are you even rescheduling for a friend, anyway?" Marik asked loudly, ignoring Malik's last statement.

Malik bristled again. "Because if I don't bring him out, he's going to remain cooped up in his miserable house and never have a social life?"

Again, Marik laughed. "Interesting. And who is this _friend _of yours?"

Malik glared. "I'm surprised you even care."

"Oh I don't, really I don't."

"...Idiot." Malik tried to step to the side again. Marik stopped him.

"Who's this friend?"

Malik looked up, lavender eyes glaring intensely at Marik's amethyst.

"...You wouldn't know him."

"Try me."

"..." Malik finally sighed. "...Ryou Whyte, from English."

Slightly surprised, Marik stepped back and crossed his arms thoughtfully. "...Whyte, did you say?" he asked, his voice low and quiet and thoughtful.

Malik didn't notice the change of atmosphere. "Yes, Whyte, now if you will excuse me -"

"OI! THERE YOU ARE, ISHTAR!"

Startled by the loud voice, Malik jumped a little bit. Marik, however, was long used to this voice.

"...Hello, Touzoku."

The gym teacher was walking up behind Marik, a few papers clutched in his hand. His toned muscles were glistening slightly; his muscle shirt was all messed up, his socks were swimming at his ankles, and his sneakers were undone. Malik saw the oldest one striding towards them and smirked.

"Speaking of one of those 'companions'..."

"Oh shut up."

Touzoku came up behind Marik and roughly grabbed the other's shoulder. He nodded at Malik. "Hey."

Malik smiled. "Hey."

Touzoku held up a finger. "Excuse me for the interruption. You get him back after about...five minutes."

"Oh, it's fine, I really don't want him back," Malik smirked. Touzoku snickered.

"Hmn, neither do I. Aw, poor Marik, he's unwanted."

Marik shot Touzoku a dark glare and clenched one of his fists over his crossed arms. "You want me to stick your miserable excuse for a cock where the sun doesn't shine?"

Touzoku ignored Marik. "Anyways." He waved the papers in his hand absentmindedly. "Sorry to tell you about this - you guys will have to go on Bachelor's Night out without me tomorrow."

Marik immediately frowned at this news, not happy at all. "Excuse me?"

Touzoku held up his hand. "Don't shoot me, Ra." Touzoku waved the papers again. "Tournament starts this week. We're going to be away for most of the weekend for opening ceremonies - not like anyone gives a fuck for those things anyway."

Marik's scowl did not lighten up. "...We have resevervations."

"We always have reservations," Touzoku retorted. He waved the papers again in front of Marik's face, as though they included the revelation Marik needed to see. "Look, I'm sure Mai won't miss us this week. We can always go on Sunday after I come back."

Marik was still not happy. Touzoku groaned and landed an arm against the wall.

"For fuck's sake, Marik - it's only this week. Bakura can't make it either."

"What?" Marik stood up straight, totally not happy now at all. "What -"

"He's got some fancy fucking Gala thing to go to," Touzoku waved his hand, not really caring. "I don't know. Something preppy. He wanted me to pick up some roses for him on the way out because he can't bear to leave his precious piano. I denied, of course." Touzoku said that as though it were the most obvious thing of the world- him? A fucking sexy basketball coach, buy roses? HA! Never.

Marik sighed, glaring darkly at Touzoku. Touzoku rolled his eyes.

"Ra, Marik, let it go, it's just this week."

Marik rolled his eyes too. "...Fine." He turned away from Touzoku. "I'll cancel our reservations."

Touzoku grinned. "Excellent." He turned back to look at Malik. "Well. I guess I should be on my merry fucking way." He punched Marik in the arm. "See you later, Ishtar." He nodded at Malik. "Ishtal."

And he left around the corner, on his merry 'fucking' way.

Sighing, Marik uncrossed his arms and shook his head. Another nice reservation, down the drain...

"Ah, if you don't mind me asking..." Malik took a step up to Marik warily. "Where was your reservation?"

"The Red Sparrow," Marik said shortly, reaching for his back pocket for his cell phone. "I don't know, I was planning on going somewhere else this weekend - but we always make a reservation with them by default..."

"Well..." Malik thought about it. "...You don't have to cancel it."

Marik stopped - he was about to flip open his cell. "Excuse me?"

Malik sighed and crossed his arms too. "...Look, normally, I wouldn't do this, but I haven't found anyone else I can trust to take Ryou out...not that I trust you, of course..."

"...Excuse me?" Marik repeated again. He couldn't quite believe to what this was leading up to. If it was...

Malik sighed again. "...I don't know, I wouldn't usually trust Ryou with you, but ...seeing as you're a better candidate than some random other teacher that Ryou doesn't know..." Sighing again, Malik took out a fifty from his back pocket. "Would you mind taking him out for me this Friday night?" He held out the fifty.

The other Egyptian eyed the fifty incredulously. " You. Want. Me. To take..."

"Oh shut it," Malik stuffed the fifty into Marik's hand. "Just take him out. Bring him to the Red Sparrow - I brought him there last week, he'll like it. I'd rather him hang out with you than give him the temptation to be cooped up in the house again."

Marik gave Malik a look of utter incredulity. He was about to throw the fifty back and deny, when he thought about it.

_A Friday night with Whyte... _

He slowly switched his gaze to the fifty in his hand. ...This could be a good opportunity...He smirked.

"Whoa, I don't like the look on your face," Malik said warily. "You better not scar him for life or I'm coming after your ass, you got it?"

Chuckling, Marik pocketed the money. "Don't worry your blond pretty head," Marik said smoothly. "I'll be civil, I promise."

"You better be..." Malik slowly took a step to the side. "I don't normally let Ryou hang out with my psycopathic cousin, but..." He gave something akin to a helpless shrug.

Smirking, Marik patted the pocket with the fifty in it. He gave Malik a bit of a sinister chuckle.

"What are families for?"

* * *

Whoa, that was a bit weak at the end, but I was really tired. I have a packed two weeks ahead of me, so I might not update as frequently, so please give me a lot of reviews to keep me going! I have a terrible chemistry lab to do tomororw and just...two crazy weeks coming up. Please read and review tons!!

Love, AphroditeLove


	6. Chapter 6

Ore no Gakuen

Chapter Six: First Dates Part One

Friday, 16:45PM.

Math Department

Marik Ishtar

"Thank you, Professor Ishtar," Kazuhiro said, in a relieved voice.

Professor Ishtar from behind his desk stood up. "It was nothing," Marik waved his hand absently. "You did fine on the exam. I'm sure this new unit will not be that difficult for you."

Kazuhiro smiled brightly. "It is...a little easier," the teenager admitted. Marik slid his things into his briefcase. "Thanks for all your help."

Marik waved his hand again. Kazuhiro smiled at his serious teacher and bowed a little at the waist. "Goodnight, Professor Ishtar."

Marik merely nodded in response as he watched Kazuhiro leave the classroom. As soon as the door shut, a smirk broke out across Marik's face. He put his briefcase onto his desk,and turned to his coat-hanger, where his leather jacket was waiting.

He stripped off his tie and put on his leather jacket. His pants today were black demin, straight and slimming. They were Marik's favourite pair of pants, next to his khaki pants with the big pockets.

Popping open his briefcase, Marik's smirk turned into a grin. Confidently, he picked up his motorcycle keys from the briefcase and slid them into his jacket pocket. After shutting the briefcase back, he slid it between his desk and his shelf, before heading out the door.

Along the way, he absently threw the key in the air, up and down, up and down, before catching it with his one hand. He felt good today.

After all, who wouldn't be, having a date with a certain pretty white-haired male...?

* * *

5:00PM

English Department

Ryou Whyte

The girls had all left, and Ryou was simply cleaning up the tables. They had literature circles today (Ryou's favourite) and the girls had forgotten to put their tables back into their original lines. He was wearning his usual sleeveless sweater and white shirt- he was expecting Malik to come any moment soon. Ryou was almost finished straightening the desks out when he heard a knock on the door.

Curious, Ryou walked to the door and turned the knob, expecting a small teenage girl who had forgotten her homework. Instead, he came face to chest with someone taller than he was - his eyes travelled up from that fine white shirt to the caramel throat ...to that slim but masculine chin, and finally, to those deep, amethyst eyes.

Ryou took a step back, startled.

"Professor Ishtar." Ryou looked surprised to see him. "Wha-?"

Marik smirked as he leaned against the doorframe. "Busy?"

Ryou blinked, looking very confused. "Well, I am supposed to meet a friend in a few minutes...is there something you need?" Suddenly Ryou's eyes shot wide open. "OH! I know that it is! The shirts! They're too small for you! I knew it, I knew it, I totally did NOT believe you were a medium when you said you were, I knew I should've gotten a lar-..."

"Whoa," Marik held up a hand. "Just shut up for a second." His smirk widened a little at Ryou's abrupt silencing. The math teacher was about to continue his question when he seemed to just realize something. "What..._what_? You didn't believe me when I said I was a medium? Excuse me, where you just implying that I was _fat_?"

Ryou's eyes widened again. "Oh my goodness gracious, no!" Ryou exclaimed hurriedly, his cheeks flushing immediately. "No! No! Nothing like that! Of course not! I..." Here, Ryou's cheeks glowed an even brighter red, and suddenly, Ryou turned away. "...That wasn't what I was thinking at all..."

Although Marik supposed he should be thinking something different, his mind detachedly decided that he liked seeing Ryou blush. It made the younger male look all the more...likeable.

And Marik normally did not like people.

Smirking again, Marik shook his head. "Of course not." He crossed his arms over his chest, noting Ryou's blush turn a distinctive pink shade now. "No...I was wondering...You said you were busy? Meeting a friend?"

Glad the subject was changed, Ryou managed to look up and nod. "Yes...Malik...Malik Ishtal? From Social Studies? I think you may know him..."

"Malik?" Marik pretended to think about it. "...Yes. I know him."

Ryou smiled, relieved, and nodded. "Yes - Malik's coming soon, I think...we're supposed to spend every Friday night together."

"Ah." Marik uncrossed his arms and stood up straight again. "Well...you see," he took a step forward into Ryou's room. Unconsciously, Ryou took a step back to let Marik in. "I just saw Malik and...he apparently had some urgency to deal with." He took another step forward.

"Urgency?" Ryou repeated slowly. The white-haired one took another step back again. Marik nodded.

"Urgency." They continued this game until Ryou suddenly jumped a little; he had hit the edge of his desk already. "But...he asked me to take you out instead, since apparently he believes if you remain here for at least one Friday on your own, you'll never get out of the house again. So."

Marik, who had followed Ryou, now bowed his head a fraction of an inch. His dark amethyst eyes glimmered egnimatically."I'll be your company tonight."

* * *

6:00PM

Red Sparrow Restaraunt, Main Entrance

Marik Ishtar and Ryou Whyte

"Funny," Ryou said as he got off the motorbike a little shakily. "...Malik had one just the same last week."

"Of course he did," Marik said. Since Ryou apparently was terrified of motorbikes, the smaller one had clung onto Marik the whole way. Personally, Marik found that he didn't mind. He held out a hand and Ryou shakily took in in both of his. "That was my motorbike."

Ryou blinked up at Marik. "You mean...you lent Malik your motorbike last week?"

"Who else owns a motorbike around this side of town?" Marik smirked. Ryou looked back at the bike.

"...It's very pretty," Ryou commented. Marik snorted.

"Well, Touzoku's first reaction was 'damn fucking hot'...I'm not sure if 'pretty' really fits..."

"Does he have a name?" Ryou asked. He looked up at Marik from the bike. Marik arched an eyebrow.

"Who?"

"Your bike."

"Why would I name my bike?"

"Because people name things that they are close too. Well, usually."

"Do you name your books?" Marik asked. Ryou blushed.

"Er...ah...no...because they already have names," Ryou answered sheepishly. He looked back at the bike. "It's ...very nice."

Marik chuckled. "You don't have to be terrified at it," he said. He patted Ryou on the shoulder. "Come on. Let's go inside."

* * *

6:00PM (sharp)

International Historical Gala

Antoinette Chalet

Malik Ishtal

The Chalet was apparently a very expensive resturaunt. Everywhere Malik looked, waiters were bringing out petite appetizers, glasses of wine, taking orders. Currently, Malik was seated in a grand hall - apparently this was the Chalet's banquet hall, for a large amount of guests - where round tables sat about everywhere, covered in fine wine-red cloths. Matching curtains draped with gold trimmings fell from the mauve walls. Malik shifted in his tuxedo. The entire place radiated class.

Malik's seat, all prettied up with folded napkins and nearly twenty different sizes of spoons, forks and knives laid out, was placed at a table in the second row from the front of the room. A grand piano stood upon steps where Malik supposed were for announcements or altars or anything ceremonial of sorts - Malik wondered if they had a karaoke machine up there too, usually places with those steppy-stage-things had a karaoke machine.

But seeing all the other patrons with their large noses and monacles, Malik doubted that very very much.

A man with very little hair and a large monocle in one eye came up onto the stage. Everyone hushed, though the waiters were still dispensing out hors d'eurvres. They continued their job as the lights dimmed and people hurried back to their seats. A large spotlight was placed on the man with very little hair and the grande piano.

"Ladies and gentleman..."

After about a few minutes, Malik had entirely tuned out. They were using musical terms that he had no idea of. Instead, Malik entertained himself by watching the man who was standing at the corner of the stage, barely hidden by the darkness. He was wearing a long black tuxedo, like Malik's, except he had several gold chains strung from his buttons to his pockets. Malik spied a strange character on each of them, but couldn't make it out. The white collared was upturned against the man's neck, and a black bow was tied across.

Malik could barely make out the man's face, but he found him alluring all the same. Deep red eyes glittered lightly in the darkness as they shifted from side to side, almost boredly.

Malik was curious. Why was that man standing there? Why wasn't he doing anything? Why wasn't he in the spotlight or sitting down?

Malik couldn't wait to see this man finally in the light.

* * *

6:30PM

The Red Sparrow

The Favourite Booth

Marik Ishtar and Ryou Whyte

Back at the restaraunt, Marik and Ryou had settled down in a circular-horse-shapped booth, the same one Marik had been to last week. They talked for a little bit, Ryou looking around (as this was only his second time here).

"So do you usually come here?" Ryou asked, his arms folded on the table and smiling at Marik. Marik was seated in his corner, one arm on the table and the other spread along the top of the cushy booth.

"Usually," Marik responded. Ryou nodded.

"It's a really nice place," Ryou commented. "The food here is wonderful."

"It always is," Marik said, the hand on the table beginning to flip through the menu. Ryou noticed Marik skipping the first few pages instantly and going straight to the vegetarian section. Ryou looked at him quizzically.

"You're a vegetarian?"

"Hmn." Marik nodded, not looking up. He wasn't in a Koshari mood today.

Ryou thought about it. "...That's very interesting," he said. "...If you don't mind...why are you a vegetarian? Cultural? Health?"

"A bit of both," Marik replied. "I really have no craving for blood and meat. At least, not eating it."

Ryou blinked, not entirely sure what Marik had meant by adding "At least, not eating it." But Ryou decided not to push it.

"Malik's a vegetarian."

"Of course he is."

"How long have you known Malik?"

"Longer than I care to."

"Ah." Ryou nodded a little. "...I've never heard Malik mention you before..."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Marik replied in all seriousness. He took off his arm from the edge of the seat and finally looked up at Ryou from his menu. "But enough about me." His eyes glittered a little. "Why don't you tell me something about _yourself_?"

Slightly surprised, Ryou pointed to himself. "You mean me?"

"Who else would I possibly mean?"

Ryou laughed a little. "Well...My full name is Ryou James Whyte ...after my father...ah...well.."

Laughing a little, Ryou rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. "Well...there's really not much to say about me," Ryou admitted, giving up. Marik arched an eyebrow.

"There's nothing much to say about you," Marik repeated.

Ryou let out a soft, bashful 'heh'. "I'm ...ah...quite a plain person in comparison to anyone here ..."

"I think that's a damn lie," Marik cut in.

Ryou paused, a little surprised at Marik's bluntness. Then he laughed and blushed, looking away from Marik. "Well..." Ryou shrugged a little. "I'm pretty sure that you're more far interesting than me...where are you from again? Egypt?"

Marik nodded, Ryou beamed.

"I've always wanted to go to Egypt," Ryou said fondly, his fingers fiddling with the corner of the menu. "But I've never been out of England before - not even to the rest of Europe - Spain, France, ...I've never been anywhere."

"They're not that interesting," Marik said bluntly. He eyed Ryou lightly. "Has no one ever told you how interesting...or shall I say, how _alluring_... you are?"

"Alluring?" Ryou repeated,blushing. "...No," he said, looking away from Marik. "Like I said, I've always been...a little plain...a little shy..." His brown eyes shifted to the dark, wet window. "I'm not much."

Suddenly, Ryou felt a hand on his. The grip was strong, firm. Ryou turned to look back and saw Marik across the table, his large hand gripping Ryou's. Ryou's brown eyes widened a little, and the bridge of his nose turned slightly pink.

"That's a lie," Marik said simply. Ryou's pink-ness intensified.

"I...er...ah...well..."

A smirk began to spread on Marik's face. "You're very _articulate _for an English teacher, aren't you?"

That only sent Ryou into more flutters and titters. Marik chuckled evilly when Ryou got even more flustered because he could not speak coherently. Eventually Ryou just ended up blushing furiously, but his laughing was evident.

"Oh be quiet..."

Marik chuckled and leaned back against the chair. His hand still hadn't left Ryou's.

His laughter quietly fading off, Ryou turned and noticed Marik's hand had remained on his. Though Marik was looking in the other direction, Ryou's blush turned pink again. He wasn't sure if he liked the touch or not. But then again, it resturaunt was a bit chilly and Marik's hand was nicely warm.

Suddenly, a waitress pulled up. Ryou turned around and automatically retrieved his hand. Marik did the same.

"Don't say a word, Mai."

The blond was smirking ever so evilly. Her purple eyes were twinkling at Ryou specifically under her long eyelashes. In one hand she held up an empty tray- the other was on her hip. Even in this casual, typical waitress pose, Mai was radiating something terribly triumphant.

Ryou slowly shifted into a corner. Mai turned her head to the side and her evil expression faded away.

"Oh, honey, I'm not going to bite!" She reached over with her free hand and grabbed Ryou's hand, dragging him back out. "Come on, hon, have I ever bitten you?"

"No, but it looked like you were going to," Ryou said childishly. Mai feigned to look hurt.

"Oh honey, I thought you knew I only do that once every full moon..."

"No, just once everytime there _is _a moon," Marik cut in. "And you're not the only person who does the biting-"

Mai scoffed and held her tray threateningly in her arms. "You want this thing cracked across your handsome mug, Ishtar?"

Marik smirked. "No, thanks. I'd rather leave wtih my face intact, thank you very much."

"Then shut it," Mai retorted, huffing lightly. Ryou merely watched with somewhat fascination. It was like as if they were _almost _siblings. They smirked the same way, at least. And their similiar purple eyes twinkled the same way when they looked evilly conniving.

Ryou didn't want to think what these two did in their spare time.

"So where's Monsieur Vampire and Beef Jerky?" Mai asked, taking out a pen from her breast pocket. Marik glowered at her.

"They're ...sustained today."

"Oooh, sustained," Mai repeated. "What did you do, finally crammed Monsieur Vampire in his piano? Beef Jerky hanging from your chandelier again?"

"It was a ceiling fan," Marik stated, as if that made all the difference in the world. "And no - Bakura's at a Gala...and Beef Jerky has a tournament this weekend."

"Ah, yes," Mai said, thinking. "Something called the Omni-Britain Basketball Tournament...?"

"Don't ask me, I don't play."

"At least you know where the ball goes through what hoop."

"There are only _two _hoops, Kujaku..."

Ryou coughed lightly. The two stopped and Mai turned to look back at Ryou. Her eyes looked wide and innocent, as though she had just noticed him there.

"Oh hi honey! And where's your friend?"

"Malik?"

"Hn, that sexy crazy dancer last weekend," Mai smiled. "I need you to give him something for me."

"What's that?" Ryou asked.

"A waiting list," Mai smirked. "He's got tens and thousands of girls and phone numbers who want to meet up with him."

"Playing matchmaker, Mai?" Marik asked dryly.

"Only a messenger," Mai admonished. She looked between Ryou and Marik again, and that smirk returned. "...So. What can I get you two today?"

"Er...just water, please," Ryou said.

Mai looked at him skeptically. "You don't have to lose weight, honey," she said bluntly. "You're perfectly fine the way you are."

"What?" Ryou exclaimed. Marik found himself chuckling at the other end. "No, no, I'm not trying to lose -"

"I know your type too well hon," Mai said, scribbling down on her pad. "Large hot chocolate, with the works."

Smiling, Ryou shook his head, but not at Mai's decision. Mai was right. He did like hot chocolate on a cold, rainy day like this.

Well, he liked hot chocolate all the time, but that was beside the point.

"And to eat?"

"Er...Potato salad," Ryou said quickly. Mai arched another eyebrow.

"We have potato salad with breaded chicken," Mai suggested. Ryou furrowed his eyebrows and looked over at Marik discreetly. Marik shook his head.

"It's fine," Marik said. "I'm the vegetarian, not you."

Beaming, Ryou smiled and nodded. "...Yes please, the Chicken Potato Salad." He looked back over at Marik and smiled softly.

_Thanks,_ his eyes said.

Marik smirked and shook his head.

"Oi. And you, your Majesty?" Mai didn't even bother being polite. Marik rolled his eyes.

"Must you undermine me everytime I have company?"

"But it's just so much fun, dear," Mai said, not even looking up from her pad of paper. "Do you know why Beef Jerky keeps on making bad jokes at you? It's cause it's funny to see you steam up."

Marik snorted and chucked the menu at Mai. "Vegetarian Crusty Potato Peasant Casserole." Mai wrote it down.

"Coffee?"

"...Maybe."

"Try something new, dear. We have a lovely cappucino..."

"Coffee, Mai."

"...With Earl Gray..."

"Coffee, Mai."

"And sugar."

"Coffee, Mai. Coffee. Black. Very black."

Mai rolled her eyes. "You never try anything fun," she snorted, ripping off the paper and stuffing it in her pocket.

"Black coffee is better than your version of 'try something new'," Marik retorted. "For all I know, you could be spiking my drinks out of spite."

"What makes you think I haven't tried that already?" Mai asked lightly. Marik's eye twitched.

"Get out of here!"

"Alright honey," she laughed wickedly. "Don't scare the darling off now, wouldn't want to embarrass you on your first d- Ah! Hey! Watch where you throw those things!"

"I was aiming for your head," Marik said satisfied, (he had thrown Ryou's menu at her too.) "You should be thankful, Mai. I purposely avoided the cleavage at something that's second priority."

Mai picked up the menu and made an immature face at Marik, before stalking off, her hips swaying. Ryou shrank into himself, unsure as to what to say.

"Is she er...ah...your...?"

"No," Marik cut instantly. "And let's not go any further with that."

Immediately, Ryou nodded. He sheepishly tucked a hair over his ear.

"So...are you single?" Marik asked randomly, rounding onto Ryou. Ryou was startled at the question.

"Oh! Er...yes, acutally..." Ryou laughed a bit meekly, looking out the window. "Yes. Yes, I'm single," he said more confidently, calming down. Marik arched an eyebrow.

"Really? Someone and lovely and interesting as you?"

Ryou smiled and shook his head. "I'm not...lovely or interesting, really."

"Liar."

Ryou laughed and turned back onto Marik. Marik was smirking.

"Did you at least have someone before?" Marik asked.

Here, Ryou looked thoughtful for a bit, before replying.

"...Sort of," he admitted. "But it never really became anything."

"I see. Unrequited love?"

Ryou sighed softly. "You could say that."

Marik nodded slowly. Ryou smiled a little, and gestured to the other.

"What about you, if you don't mind me asking," Ryou gestured to Marik's hand. "I don't see an engagement ring or a wedding ring."

"That's because there's no one to engage or to wed," Marik said simply.

"Are you...interested in someone?" Ryou asked cautiously. Marik snorted.

"Not really. I suppose every weekend I try to find someone - but nothing really sparks much. I'm a very picky person when it comes to relationships - better alone than with someone undesireable."

Ryou nodded slightly. "I...see."

"And you?"

"...No, I just...don't find it a top priority in my life," Ryou admitted. "Marking papers and helping around the school is already taking up a huge chunk of my time."

"I see."

Ryou smiled. He turned around and saw Mai coming back up the steps again, tray loaded.

"Oh look!! Food!!" Ryou bounced at the prospect. Marik rollled his eyes, but was smirking.

"Casserole," Mai shoved the tray against Marik. "And salad." She shoved it likewise to Ryou. "Coffee and hot chocolate." She shoved these things again and hurried off. Marik frowned.

"Kujaku!"

"Sorry, Ishtar," Mai apologized, looking a little serious and frazzled. "I've got a badass on the dancing floor causing some trouble - our bouncer's not here yet. I'll talk to you later."

Marik furrowed his eyebrows lightly. Ryou looked after Mai, a little concerned.

"I hope everything will be alright."

"I'm sure she'll be fine." Marik turned coolly to his casserole. "Kujaku's a tough woman. She can handle anything."

"You sure?" Ryou asked, worriedly.

Marik smirked. "She's put up with me, Bakura and Touzoku for a near five years in a row now. I think she'll be fine."

* * *

7:45PM

International Historical Gala

Antoinette Chalet

Malik Ishtal

Malik was getting very bored. He had nothing to do other than to listen about this man re-tell the stories of the revolutions. In truth, Malik had acutally expected the Gala to go more interestingly - what with talking to all the other patrons and historians with their theories and opinons. But this guy apparently was too in love with himself talking to stop.

"And now, we will have an example played of the sheet music on the piano..." The man looked up and smiled happily. "Please welcome, the very esteemed Bakura Akako!"

The man from the shadows finally appeared from the darkness. His long white hair flowed after him, loosely tied in a silkly black ribbon. His tuxedo was very elegant - sharp, crisp, simple and black. A black bow was tied under his collar. He was donning a dark vest underneath the jacket of the tuxedo. As he walked to the piano, slimly, elegantly, silently, Malik caught a glint of silver from one of the pockets. He was about to wonder what it was when the musician - Bakura - quietly shed his tuxedo jacket - revealing his vest, from which its pocket hung a silver chain that looped gracefully from the flattened collar of the vest. From the silver chain, a few pendants were hung, but from his distance, Malik couldn't read what they were.

A hush fell upon the audience as Bakura took his seat. His eyes never once met the audience, never once swept the chamber to gauge his viewers. He merely sat, positioned himself, and focused entirely on his music.

His slender hands were poised over the keys. Malik unconsciously bent forwards. _Bakura Akako_...the name sounded so familiar. Malik wasn't sure where he had heard it from. He was in the History department, after all...the History department rarely co-worked with any other department in the school...

A key rang throughout the room. It was followed by a series of them, all twinkling, all moving. The sudden sweep of the music was startling, yet swift. It lifted a part of Malik that he never knew he had, and swept it away, like a great wave sweeping his soul against a hidden contentment he had never known. Malik took a small breath of awe, gazing at the musician.

The slim, pale, skeleton hands danced, slowly, softly, then rapidly; they were so in sync with one another, complimented one another. The music entangled came out as a chorus of beauty. Malik felt himself smile.

_"Have you heard this one? I love this CD. It's so twinkly."_

_"That's so you, Malik. I thought you liked rock."_

_"Well, rock is a lot of fun too, but sometimes classical is nice."_

_"J-Pop rendition of Beethoven isn't classified as classical, Malik."_

_A laugh. "Just listen to it, you'll love it."_

_A chuckle. "...Alright, if you say so."_

_A smile. "Thanks, Jyo..."_

Malik quickly shook his head. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. The music continued to sweep his way, but he wasn't sure if it was now taking his soul to a place he wanted to be.

The music turned tense, yet delicate, as though the precious melodies were hidden and strained to sound powerful. Malik found himself wondering if music was a lot like words ...that there were deeper meanings hidden between the lines.

_Guitar music. J-pop rock. Laughing._

_"I hope I can be a singer sometime..." A soft feedback of the mike. "Oops."_

_Another round of laughter. "Sure, if you put your mind to it. You're a great singer, Malik."_

_Another laugh. "Yeah, and I'm damn sexy too."_

_A single laugh, before slowly dying out. Malik's voice echoed in the cavernous room, soft and quiet now._

_"Hey, Jyo...?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"...You really think I can make it?"_

_"Sure. You're hot enough for it, like you said. Plus you sing awesome."_

_"Yeah but...if I make it, ...won't people eventually know that...that we're...well..."_

_Silence on the other end. Malik didn't like the silence very much._

_"...I've been thinking about that too," the other said. "Listen...Malik..."_

_A shuffle of feet. Malik had stood up._

_"...Jyo..."_

_"No."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"It's nothing."_

_Another shuffle of feet. "...If it's about me going away because I'll have to sing...I can always just stay here...with you."_

_"No...I wouldn't want that..."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"I'd rather you go outside, beat your competition. You don't have to stay here with a mutt like me."_

_"But I love a mutt like you."_

_A soft embrace. Malik's voice was muffled._

_"You'll always be my favourite puppy, Jyo...I'll always love you."_

Malik shook his head. No. No. No thinking of that. No thinking of that stupid little fling that lasted so many years. No thinking of those little dog collars and chains that were hidden in his drawer, ones with his name, ones with _his _name...

Malik turned his eyes back up to the musician. The music was becoming increasingly powerful. Malik's face cracked just a little bit, his eyes on the musician, as though pleading for the white-haired one to stop his playing. Each tone, each note, each key played was beginning to pull strings of memories Malik didn't want to remember.

Seeing those silvery strands too, Malik didn't want to look at them anymore. He didn't want to believe that, after so long, he might've finally be interested in someone else...

He didn't want to see those hands anymore, those slender beautiful hands. Nor did he want to imagine how soft that silkly white hair looked. Nor did he want to even imagine what this musician...this beautiful musician was like in reality...

_"Jyo!! Check it out! My first CD!"_

_"That's great, Malik! Told'ya you could do it."_

_A tight embrace. "And it was all because of you."_

_"Naw, not just because of me."_

_A soft kiss on the cheek. "Hmn...I'm so happy tonight," Malik's voice whispered. "...Would you mind...celebrating with me tonight?"_

_"Celebrating?"_

_"Yeah! I'm eighteen now, I can do whatever I want. You're eighteen now too. Please, Jyo...you promised me."_

_"...That was a long time ago, Malik."_

_"I know, but this is special to me. Please?"_

_A hand, shimmying down a chest. Buttons unbuttoned after the hand, as though by magic. Soft, loving lips closed upon silent ones, massaging, begging, needing, loving._

_Thrown off clothes, wrapped up sheets. Cries of pain and moans of pleasure. The headboard thudded against the wall in their miserable dwelling, the guitar on the floor laid forgotten. Heat, surging back and forth. Lust, equally shared. Love..._

Malik clenched his hands.

_Unrequited,_ his mind hissed bitterly.

_"Jyo...oh Jyo..."_

_"..."_

_"Jyo...you know I'd rather stay here with you than be out there singing..."_

_"..."_

_"Jyo..." Loving arms wrapped around the shoulders of the other, sweating, naked. "...I love you Jyo..."_

_"Stop!"_

Malik shut his eyes. He tried to block out the echos of that voice.

_"Stop! I can't do this anymore!"_

_"Do what...?"_

_"I can't! I'm not! They find us out, they'll lynch us!"_

_"But...I..."_

_"You can't be a singer and still be gay, Malik! Once everyone finds out, you'll be hunted down for life! No one likes someone who's orientation is different!"_

_"But that was the past Jyo...that was..."_

_"It's not! It's not the past! I can't live life this way, not with you as a singer - "_

_"Then I won't be---"_

_"That's not the point!"_

Malik bitterly forced himself to unclench his hands. He heard the music beginning to drift away. He felt his heart slowly repairing old wounds. He looked up to see the musician slowly rested his hands to a stop, never looking up, never opening his eyes to the crowd.

Malik gazed up at the musician sadly.

_I haven't felt like this for someone so long...I keep on thinking that maybe it's lust, but that's wrong too..._

He watched as people stood up and applauded greatly. The man stood, his head bowed, before turning to the audience. He took a step forward and bowed at the waist, so gentlemanly, so elegantly. However, when he stood up again, he never once turned his eyes to the audience, never once looked Malik's way.

_I know men like you,_ Malik thought. _You're the type who bottles up, don't you? The tall, dark, mysterious one...you never let people touch you. You're like one of those crazy artists who never come out of their studio to talk to us useless mortals._

The man slowly flicked his hair away from his shoulders. He never spoke once, not even when the administrator came out to congratulate him and to ask him about his opinion on the sheet music.

_You probably have an army of girls after you,_ Malik thought, noticing the many primped-up women who were fanning themselves. _"Oh, that Bakura Akako, what a lovely musician!" "He's quite handsome too, isn't he?" "Very much so..."_

Malik reluctantly stood up, clapping once or twice. He wanted to applaud forever, but then, that'd be just like before - just like when he was younger, when he was with _him..._applauding, applauding, following after the heels of his master so uselessly and so slavishly in love. And Jyo had always thought _he _was the mutt...

_You're the type who never embraces reality, aren't you?_ Malik asked the musician silently. _You have thousands of women at your feet, ready to love you at your command. But you'll never do that, will you? You'd rather keep to yourself, in your own greatness. You'd never let anyone in..._

Malik abruptly stopped applauding and bowed his head.

_You'll never accept a gay man like me..._

The musician slowly walked down the steps of the stage. The administrator concluded the event, but encouraged everyone to gather and talk. There was a buffet table set up at the back. Malik sighed and put his coat on, the mingle and bustle of everyone talking bringing back to reality. No use of self pity now.

He wanted to go home immediately, but he also wanted to eat. He didn't have much food at the school anyway - it was probably late enough that the school cook wouldn't make him a meal anyways. He decided to put up the rest of the night, at least for a quick bite, before hurrying off to home.

He bumped into many along his way to the buffet table. Everyone asked him what he thought the music had served in the enlightenment of the French revolution. Malik merely faked a smile and nodded, saying very little, before finally managing to grab a plate.

As he gathered some fruits and vegetables, he overheard the crowd at the corner. From their conversation, he could tell that they were just incredibly obsessed with the musician.

_"Akako, that's a very interesting name, isn't it? What does it mean?"_

_"You play so elegantly, Mr. Akako. Very elegantly."_

_"What a fine suit, Mr. Akako, is it tailored here in Britain?"_

_"Just marvelous, absolutely marvelous, Mr. Akako..."_

Malik closed his eyes tightly and randomly grabbed another fruit. He managed to accidently squish his cantaloupe so that his hand was now dripping in sticky sweetness.

Grumbling, Malik bent across the table for a napkin. When he straightened again, he managed to bump into someone.

"Oh- sorry..."

Silence met the other end. Malik didn't like rude people who didn't acknowledge his politeness - ... he turned around to glare at the person when he was met face to face with very beautiful red eyes.

"...!"

_It's that man,_ Malik thought. _That man I bumped into in the office the other day..._

Malik's mind was swimming.

_Bakura Akako is a teacher?!_

"Is it a normal accustom for you to bump into everyone you see?" the man asked. Malik gaped. _I knew it. I knew it. Just cold like I predicted. _

Malik decided to flare right back. "Is it a normal custom for you to never say 'thank you'?"

"Whyever would I say something like that?" the man asked. "Should I be the one thanking you for your mishap?"

"You can at least say 'it's alright' or 'thank you' for me apologizing!" Malik retorted heatedly. In the back of his head, he faintly realized that he was talking back to the the musician...the great musician he had been admiring three minutes ago. He took a step back. What was the matter with him?!

"Hmn, contrary to popular belief, I don't bite," the white-haired man smirked. Malik gawked, totally unsure of what to say. "...Much."

"..." Malik eyed the other. "You're very friendly offstage, aren't you?"

"Oh quite, haven't you noticed?"

Malik rolled his eyes at the man's sarcasm. He took a step back, wanting to put some distance between him and the other.

"However," the musician cut through, "I wasn't merely here to exchange pleasant conversation." He leaned against the table. "I noticed you didn't clap at the ovation. Something the matter? Classical music doesn't fit your taste?"

"Actually, it does," Malik shot back."But whether or not I applaud is none of your business."

"Of course it's my business," the musician admonished. "You may not be able to please everyone, but I sincerley believed you enjoyed the music, did you not?"

Malik took a heated breath. He looked at the other man intently - and reluctantly nodded.

"...Yes. Yes I liked it."

"Good." The man smirked and stood up straight. "That's all I needed to know."

He man was about to walk away, when the purple part of Malik's brain stopped him.

"Wait!"

The man slowly turned back around. Malik took another breath and held out his hand.

"...My name is Malik Ishtal."

A single eyebrow raised. A delicate hand slowly gripped Malik's in return, but its shake was very brief.

"Bakura Akako. _Dozoyoroshiku._"

9:00 PM

The Red Sparrow

The Favourite Booth

Marik Ishtar and Ryou Whyte

Back at the resturaunt, both Marik and Ryou had finished their meals. Ryou was happy and content with his food, sitting back comfortably. Marik too, enjoyed his food, but didn't show it as he was still pouring himself another glass of wine.

"Wine?"

Ryou shook his head. "I don't drink alcahol."

"Oh. Pity," Marik said, though he didn't sound upset whatsoever. He poured himself another glass. "I must remember that for our next outing."

Ryou smiled. "That's very kind of you."

"Really?" Marik smirked as he took a sip of his wine. "Most people don't usually say that."

Ryou chuckled a little in response. Below them, the dance floor was all set up already.

Absent-mindedly, Ryou looked out the window.

"...Looks like rain," he sighed.

Marik idly looked out the window too. He said nothing, as rain never really bothered him, though he was just a tad bit annoyed. It meant he'd go home soaking on his motorbike tonight.

"...Do you like rain, Marik?" Ryou asked.

Marik shrugged lightly. "Not really," he said. "It causes inconvience when I want to get home. My bike might rust because of it."

"Oh," Ryou said. "...I like rain."

"I gathered."

Ryou smiled. "I like the rain. It's calming to me, I think. It rejuvinates a lot...it makes me think about stuff I don't usually think about." He looked out the window again. "It's very peaceful."

Marik wasn't sure what to say to all that. He hadn't really had much exposure to rain. After all...he had spent most of his life in Egypt, of course.

"Care to dance?" Marik asked. Ryou turned back around to look at Marik.

"Huh? Oh no!" Ryou quickly shook his head. "No no, really, it's fine...I'm not one much to dance." "Well, I am," Marik said, standing up. He held out his hand. "Shall we?"

Ryou blushed lightly and shook his head again. "No...really, I'm fine..."

"Check, boys?" Mai randomly cut in. Marik rolled his eyes and reached for his wallet.

"Here, I'll pay," Ryou quickly intervened. He grabbed his wallet too and took out a few wads of bills.

"No," Marik shook his head and swept the money back at Ryou. "I'll pay. It's fine."

"But you've already done so much," Ryou protested. "I'll pay, Marik, really. I'll pay. Malik and I always go dutch anyway."

"Hn, dutch is for the stubborn," Marik smirked. "_I'll_ pay."

"No, I'll pay, really-"

"Yeesh!" Mai rolled her eyes. "Decide already. Good grief. Men."

Ryou and Marik both stopped temporarily bickering. Marik's smirk widened a little wickedly and he handed Ryou back his money.

"Tell you what. Do you really want to pay?"

Ryou nodded determinedly. "Yes."

"Alright. Why don't we compromise? You pay for our meal..."

Marik put his wallet away.

"And dance with me?"

Ryou's eyes widened and gawked. Mai grinned.

"Nice one, Ishtar."

"Shut up, Kujaku."

Ryou hestiated. He didn't really want to dance...but then again, Marik had been so kind to bring him out in the first place...

Deciding to give in to his kind nature, Ryou nodded and paid for their meals. Marik smirked and draped an arm around Ryou's shoulders.

"So you really don't know how to dance?"

"Really don't know."

"Well. We'll just have to teach you then."

While Ryou wasn't looking, Marik had snuck Malik's fifty back into Ryou's back pocket. He slapped Ryou ass lightly for good measure. Ryou jumped and squeaked.

"Sorry, hand slipped," Marik apologized, almost looking genuinely embarrassed. Ryou nodded and believed the other, and headed down to the dance floor with Marik.

* * *

A little weak, but that's because this whole chapter originally was going to have a lot more to it - but I had finished nineteen pages of basic scenes, so I decided to chop it in half and put up this one first. At least the Malik-Bakura interaction was quite nice. Marik and Ryou will have more fun interactions in the next chapter.

Please read and review! I have a midterm this week so please review so I may update faster!!

-AL


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: First Dates Part Two

9:30 PM

Dance Floor

The Red Sparrow

Marik Ishtar and Ryou Whyte

Lights flashed, music boomed. The speakers thumped in tune and throbbed with the melody. Ryou had to cover his ears with his hands, something that made Marik very amused.

"You're not that afraid of loud music, are you?" the older asked.

"WHAAT?" Ryou yelled across the noise. Marik chuckled and took both Ryou's wrists, wrenching his hands from Ryou's ears. "OW!"

"You'll get used to it," Marik smirked. "Come on, let loose."

Huffing, Ryou paused for a moment, before shifting a little on his feet. He had never danced before and wasn't sure how to start.

_Why is everyone telling me to let loose? I'm just a little shy..._

"I think you're lying again."

"Lying?" Ryou raised his head. "About what?"

"About not being able to dance," Marik smirked. "No one hangs out with Malik without learning something akin to dancing from him."

"Well...er, I never get the chance," Ryou hurriedly said blushing. Marik smirked.

"I can believe that. But I don't believe for a second that you don't know how to dance."

He let go of Ryou's wrists. "Show me."

Ryou gawked. "Show you what?"

"Prove me wrong that you can't dance. Dance."

Ryou looked like he was ready to sputter like crazy. However, before he could do anything, Marik had grabbed him by the wrist, and dragged him into the crowded floor. Stumbling, Ryou followed, his hair flying after him.

Music thumped into his ears.

_La la la  
La la la la la  
La la la  
La la la la la_

Ryou squinted and covered his ears with his hands. He had never gotten so close to the speakers before. But that didn't stop Marik from pulling him even closer to the stage. In the corner, the band from last week were taking requests. A girl was now singing in lead rather than the boy that Bakura had terribly embarrased the week before.

"I-I don't know what to do!" Ryou cried over the loud music. Marik merely flashed him a smug grin.

"Just follow the master, then."

He stepped a bit away from Ryou's, but their hands were still together. Ryou faintly blushed in the darkness of their contact, but he was too busy trying to not get bumped into people to think much on it. Marik's smug smirk turned a tad bit more conniving.

"Step forward," he commanded.

Looking up, Ryou sent him a confused look. "?"

"Take a step! Any step!"

Ryou still looked hesitant. To help him, Marik gave him a hard shake.

"Now!"

"Eep!"

Quickly, Ryou jumped from feet to feet, nearly tripping over himself. Marik couldn't help but burst out in laughter.

"Hn, I think I'll take back that bit about you being a liar..."

"Hnph," Ryou pouted, getting back up properly. "You think you're that great of a dancer then?"

Marik's smirk shone egnimatically in the flashing light. He swiftly took a step towards Ryou so that the two of them ended up just inches apart from one another.

"I don't think I am," Marik breathed. "I know I am."

Right before Ryou, Marik began to dance. Ryou gasped softly and took a step back.

_I just can't get you out of my head_

_Boy your loving is all I think about_

He had never thought someone as serious as Marik could dance as tatently as what was displayed before him. His hips were swivelling, his shoulders were jumping and rolling with the music. Ryou surprised expression melted into an awed smile.

_I just can't get you out of my head  
Boy it's more than I dare to think about_

In the darkness, Marik's golden hair was more pronounced than ever. The strange ways the disco light shined upon it made it glitter in the strangest of ways - mysteriously, temptingly. His amethyst eyes, hooded, complimented his alluring golden strands, shining lightly in the twinkles of the disco lights.

_La la la  
La la la la la_

_I just can't get you out of my head  
Boy your loving is all I think about  
I just can't get you out of my head  
Boy it's more than I dare to think about_

Several girls had turned and 'oooh'ed at Marik dancing. Ryou couldn't blame them. The older did look quite impressive - there was something just dangerously tempting about the way those eyes glimmered, those firm hips swivelling, those tight, muscular legs twisting, the tan skin, so rich in color, so intoxicating.

Ryou took a step back, faintly realizing that he was blushing. He also faintly realized something else.

_Do you remember the last time someone danced like this in front of you?_

Ryou took a step back again. His eyes gazed out a little.

_He had nice tan skin too, didn't he? He made you think the things you're thinking now too, didn't he?_

Ryou shut his eyes.

_Every night  
Every day_

_'You've never danced before?' _

Those words echoed in Ryou's head. He remembered shaking his head sadly.

He remembered the same longing to dance._  
_

_Just to be there in your arms_

In the darkness, those amethyst eyes seemed to have a soul of their own. They locked on Ryou's, even though the other was still dancing. Ryou temprorarily blanked out on everything else. They beckoned to him, teased him, asked sweetly, asked darkly, demanded...commanded...that the innocent soul of Ryou join them too.

_Won't you stay_

Ryou wanted to go, but another part of him didn't. Some part of him wanted to get lost in those eyes, but some part wanted him to be found too - ...

_Won't you lay_

_He looks so familiar, _Ryou thought softly to himself. _So familiar..._

_Stay forever and ever and ever and ever_

Ryou didn't even notice that Marik had managed to dance his way all over to Ryou again. He let those strong hands take his wrists, and pull him into the flashes of multicolor lights. Those amethyst eyes never left Ryou's. Faintly, Ryou found himself sort-of smiling - it had, after all, been a while since he had ever done something as fun as this.

_La la la  
La la la la la_

_He was here last week,_ Ryou dimly realized. _With...Touzoku ..._

_La la la  
La la la la la_

Closing his eyes, Ryou looked down, as though trying to concentrate on his shoes, despite the blackness. Experimentally, he shifted from side to side in beat with the music. He took a few steps towards Marik, jumped back, a few steps again, then jumped back. He looked up and was face to face - merely inches away - with the smooth expression of the other.

_I just can't get you out of my head  
Boy your loving is all I think about  
I just can't get you out of my head  
Boy it's more than I dare to think about_

He sort of realized that Marik was holding their hands up, shoulder-height. He sort-of understood that they began shifting their weights at the same time, the same way. He sort-of registered that when he bent his knees, they touched Marik's legs lightly, almost brushing against them, before straigtening again.

_There's a dark secret in me  
Don't leave me locked in your heart_

The music was a bit of a blur in Ryou's ears. He wasn't even sure what the song was about anymore.

_Set me free  
Feel the need in me  
Set me free  
Stay forever and ever and ever and ever_

Suddenly, Marik grabbed him close, before dipping him towards the floor. Squealing, Ryou held on for dear life. As his hair brushed against the floor and the crowds cheered absently, Ryou realized something.

He was actually having fun.

_La la la  
La la la la la  
La la la  
La la la la la_

It was a fun he hadn't had in a while.

_I just can't get you out of my head  
I just can't get you out of my head  
I just can't get you out of my head..._

Ryou smiled sadly to himself as Marik slowly pulled him up.

_He didn't deserve this fun...this happiness._

The music ended.

* * *

The Gala

10:00 PM

Bakura Akako and Malik Ishtal.

"Ah, if it isn't Mr. Malik Ishtal."

Malik dryly looked up at the voice from his position at the head of the buffet table. He had been conversing with Bakura, who had finally decided to eat something ("Not blood", he assured, apparently plenty of common people believed him to be a vampire.), and the two of them had merely been standing there, eating lightly. Women often passed by to flirt at Bakura, to which he calmly and quietly put them down - something Malik wasn't surprised to see happen. Bakura was, after all, a very talented musician...and didn't most crazily talented people deny the crazy common things that most mortals want...?

Bakura was leaning on his right leg, his pelvis a little forward. His coat was draped on one of the chairs at a random table. Malik had just been this close to questioning the pendants on Bakura's vest when the administrator so rudely interrupted them.

The monocle-eyed-balding-man smiled. "Mr. Ishtal," he said, extending a hand and crisply shaking Malik's hand. Malik smiled dryly and returned the shake. "And ah, Mr. Akako - lovely playing tonight, really, such talent."

Bakura said nothing, merely bowing lightly at the waist, denying the old man's extended hand. The administrator laughed heartily.

"Ah, quite the eccentric artist, hm? But of course. Is it the ah...custom in Japan to bow rather than a handshake?"

Bakura nodded. The administrator laughed again and bowed happily at the waist, though it looked ridiculous from Malik's point of view. The old, ancient and regal adiministrator simply didn't have Bakura's grace and elegance of a bow. In fact, the administrator looked like he was about to stumble over his own feet.

"The deeper the bow, the greater the respect," Bakura said, his voice unemotional. Malik quickly shoved the adiministrator back on his feet. Though he had only known Bakura for a few hours tonight, he could feel the other's ego like anyone could feel radiation.

"Ah, so, Mr...Wilcocks," Malik coughed a little. "How are you?"

"Perfectly fine, my lad," Mr. Wilcocks said, his great chest (he had no belly, he was a spinely man with straight shoulders and a narrowing body- bald head and large nose to match.) heaving with pride. "Tonight's Gala has been a huge success, thanks to the talents of Mr. Akako. Certainly, this will spark discussion of the French revolution once more for years to come!"

"Hn, discussions," Malik repeated, lightly swirling his wine glass of soda (he wasn't in the mood for wine that night.).

"Which reminds me," Mr. Wilcocks beamed. "Seeing you two standing here reminds me. In the near future, the sheet music will be copied and sent internationally around the world for analysis. However - seeing as conviently, both are you are standing here - one a historian, the other a musician - perhaps you would like to be Britain's representative at researching this musical piece?"

Mr. Wilcock's eyes landed on Malik expectantly, very proudly. Malik tried his best not to make a face.

"I hate to admit it sir, but my expertise is in Egyptology, not in French history..."

"Ah, that's no reason to attempt a challenge!" Mr. Wilcocks said, animatedly shaking his fist. "I insist that the two of you work on this project together. Think of it as a tag team. No pressure, of course, since research such as this rarely has due-dates of any sort - simply...with your historian experitise and Mr. Akako's knowledge of music...why, I think you two would make a fine team at tackling this pivitol piece of music!"

Malik chuckled nervously, not really wanting to say yes. "Mr. Wilcocks, sir..."

"I insist!" Mr. Wilcocks shook his fist again, his whole body shaking triumphantly. "You will be Britain's representatives, I insist!" He patted Malik on the shoulder. "A fine man you are, Mr. Ishtal. A fine man. You and Mr. Akako both will do perfectly well, I'm sure."

Malik winced a little. "...Thank you sir," he finally said, giving in.

Bakura, throughout this whole thing, had not once said a word. Mr. Wilcocks, happy at the idea of being multicultural, excused himself from Bakura by bowing ridiculously again. Bakura watched with a dead-panned expression as Malik eventually had to shove Mr. Wilcocks out of the way so the bow wouldn't be misinterpreted.

"A bow that low is only suitable for a master within a dojo," Bakura noted, as Mr. Wilcocks finally stood up in another crowd, "either that, or to create terrible arthiritis."

Malik snorted dryly. "He's only trying to be nice."

"Oh I'm sure. I'm sure." Bakura turned around absently, looking over his shoulder at nothing in particular. Malik took this as a sign to continue his original question - before having to deal with Bakura being his history buddy.

"Beautiful pendants," Malik gestured. Bakura idly arched an eyebrow before looking at the chain indicated. There were only three pendants hanging from the chain. Malik looked at them curiously. "...A - ka - KO."

Bakura looked mildly impressed. "Do you speak Japanese?" he asked. Malik immediately blushed and shook his head frantically.

"Oh, Ra, no. I- the only Japanese I have is just - little stuff I learned from listening to Japanese pop all the time," Malik hurried explained. Bakura arched his eyebrow.

"You are interested in Japanese music?" the musician inquired.

Malik smiled passively. "It's a harmless pastime."

Bakura smirked. "Who are your favourite artists?"

Malik thought about it a little, swirling his glass. "...I'm not sure," he finally said. "There's just so many to choose from."

Bakura snorted in response. He leaned back against the table.

Malik stole a quick glance at the other. "...You were quite amazing up there," he said. "I know you've probably heard it from tens and thousands of people around, but you're ...really talented."

Bakura merely shrugged, an elegant gesture, Malik believed. The white-haired musician raised up a hand and ran his fingers through his hair. Malik watched as the hair followed the silky motion slowly, like flowing, enchanting hair commercial.

"It's a gift," Bakura sighed arrogantly, looking boredly away. Malik huffed lightly, a little down-trodden that his praise for his recently-decided-favourite-musician was looked away upon. He tapped his finger lightly against his glass.

"I'm actually really interested, you know," Malik said suddenly, "about Japan. You know, and its culture. I've always have been."

Bakura merely turned back around, arching an eyebrow mildly. "Really."

"Yeah." Malik smiled.

"And where are you from? Egypt, I'm presuming?"

"Yeah," Malik replied, looking mildly suprised. "How'd you guess?"

Bakura snorted. "Just lucky."

Malik's smile grew slightly. "You know..." He looked away a little, his expression growing slightly bashful. "It really is a great convience that we work in the same school - it'd give us a lot of chance to work on that French piece together. And ...I mean, it'd be a lot of fun, I think. The French Revolution is truly fascinating, even if it's not my area of expertise - I still love the idea and the grandeur of it all. I suppose that's why I'm so interested in other cultures too...particularly Japan... I'd love to more about it. I'm just absolutely fascinated by its culture."

Bakura smirked derisively. "You and perhaps the rest of the international anime-J-pop-Ramen obsessed world," he retorted lightly. "There's more to culture than what meets the eye."

"Of course, of course," Malik said hurriedly. "And I - I actually- I'm really- "

Bakura waved a hand non-chalantly. "If you truly are interested in the culture, I wouldn't mind bestowing some of my vast knowledge with you sometime. But of course, at a bargain."

Malik's eyes perked up a bit curiously. "...A bargain?" he repeated, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

Bakura smirked and directed his eyes over at Malik, so that red-deep ones glazed over lavender shades.

"I'll teach you all I know about Japanese history and life - " Bakura smirked, his lips moving sensually along every word, "...and you..." He raised a finger and pointed it at Malik, slowly, as though carressing Malik's cheek from far away. "...You teach me history in general."

"History in general?" Malik repeated incredulously. "What on earth -"

"As terribly gifted I am with my talents," Bakura said coolly, brushing away from the tablet, "I too, have weaknesses. If I agree to enlighten you about Japanese culture, I'm afraid you will have to enlighten me about the French."

Malik gaped after Bakura. "But I - I don't...I'm not..."

But Bakura didn't take no for an answer. Apparently someone had gotten his attention,and abruptly, Bakura waved back and began to walk away. As he disappeared into the crowd without so much as a goodbye, he turned around and called out to Malik:

"...I know zip about the French."

* * *

10:30 PM

Dance Floor

The Red Sparrow

Marik Ishtar and Ryou Bakura

"Tired?"

Smiling, Ryou leaned against the wall, brushing his bangs back. "Yeah..." He fanned himself lightly. "There's too many people here!"

Marik smirked and leaned against the wall too, against his shoulder. "Naturally. This place is pretty famous around here."

Ryou smiled and brushed the sweat from his forehead. "So I've heard. Malik loves this place."

Hearing Malik's name, Marik merely shrugged in response. However, he did notice the redness in Ryou's cheeks from the exertion of dancing. Marik lowered his eyes and grunted.

"Stay here," he said, not meeting Ryou's eyes. "I'm going to get us something to drink. You want anything?"

At the mention of drinks, Ryou's eyes lit up again. "Oh yes, please," he said, relieved. "Iced water would be fine..."

Marik turned back and raised his eyebrows at Ryou. "You're the most boring person on earth," Marik snorted. He took a few steps and mingled into the crowd. "Stay right there!"

Ryou nodded and waved. "See you later!"

Ryou relaxed against the wall.

_He's so nice, _Ryou thought to himself. He shook his head frantically. _No, no, we're not thinking these things, remember the last time what happened to you when you thought someone was nice? Nevermind that he looks so much like _him...

Wincing, Ryou tried to distract himself by rolling up his sleeves. The voice in the back of his head continued to talk though.

_It's terrible of you to think of him like that...sure he's nice and sure he's nice-looking, but you don't deserve that type of companionship, you know that? Shouldn't you have learned this from your experiences with _him...?

Ryou sighed. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

_You don't deserve friends...you're lucky enough to have Malik and just every Friday out with him. You spend any more time away from home and you'll be neglecting your duty, the reason you were put on his earth for.Then they'll take it all away from you ..take it all away, cause you lost control..._

"Hey sweetie," the man smirked. Ryou immediately snapped out of his trance. His eyes widened at the man who was leaning one hand against the wall. "Looking a bit lonely there."

Ryou immediately felt awkward. "...No, I'm not," he said, not really liking the aura of this man, who was wearing a sloppy shirt, tight jeans, and a denim vest. Sunglasses shielded his eyes. His long blond hair was covered with a bandanna that looked like the American flag.

The man snickered, his rugged, unshaven chin presenting a smirk/grin that Ryou didn't like. Ryou also didn't like how the man was also leaning in towards him.

"So what's a cute babe like you doing all alone in a dump of a corner like this?" the man asked, leaning in closer to Ryou's face. Ryou shrank into the corner.

"...I'm not alone," Ryou repeated.

"Oh?" The man chuckled a little and took off his glasses just a centimeter to peer at Ryou over the rims. His blond hair fell into his eyes. "And just...who is this mysterious stranger you're with?"

"He's no stranger," Ryou said, slowly edging down the length of the wall. "Actually, I think I heard him call me just now. Excuse me-"

The man's other arm - muscular and pale - shot out and trapped Ryou in the corner. Ryou's heart began to beat very fast in panic. Automatically, he pressed himself back into the corner.

"I think you're lying, sweetie," the man leered. "No one denies Bandit Keith what he wants, sweetie..."

"Don't call me that," Ryou said quietly. The man ignored him.

"Come on, babe. You can't stick around this corner forever. Dance with me." The man grinned and licked his teeth, bringing the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. "I'm American," he said, as though that made all the difference in the world. Ryou made a face. As if the bandanna already hadn't given it away ...

"No, really." Ryou finally decided he should stand up for himself - at least a little bit. He wasn't a little kid anymore. "...I'm waiting for someone," he said firmly.

"Don't lie to me sweetie." Bandit Keith began to loom in towards Ryou. Ryou eyed him suspiciously, slowly backing away. His hands tightened a little under his sleeves.

"Tell me, sweet-cheeks," Bandit Keith was now directly in front of Ryou's face, his lips just a few inches away from Ryou's. Discreetly,Ryou could smell alcahol on the other's breath and immediately turned his head away in disgust. "Who's your pretty little invisible friend?"

Ryou couldn't breathe. He didn't want to breathe. Otherwise, he'd faint from that ill-stench of alcohal and spit. His fists clenched tightly and he kept on telling himself to throw that punch.

"Get awa-"

Suddenly, a hand shot in between them, knocking Ryou back into the wall and Bandit Keith from Ryou. When he saw who the tanned arm belonged to, Ryou released a breath of relief. That arm now crossed between Ryou's face and Keith's, protecting Ryou, guarding Ryou.

"..._I'm _his '_pretty little invisible friend,_'" Marik said coldly. His amethyst eyes were glinting slightly in the dark in a deadly manner. "And if you want to argue otherwise, I suggest you haul your ass out of here. _Now._"

A bit tiredly, Ryou relaxed against the wall again, relieved that Marik had come just in time. Bandit Keith, however, was neither impressed nor pleased.

"Heh. What's he to you?" he sneered. He crossed his arms over his vested shirt. "I bet I can show that sweet ass a more good time than you."

Marik's eyes narrowed, and finally, Ryou picked up a sense of mood that seemed a lot more dangerous radiating from Marik than had been radiating from Keith. Keith radiated rough, bullying, and a near-cowardly violence. Marik radiated the type of violence that Ryou instinctively associated with murder and suppressed bombs.

Marik sharply released his arm from in front of Ryou, and turned swiftly so that now he stood in between them.

"Say that again," Marik threatened quietly. Keith, too much of an idiot for his own good, laughed.

"Yeah, you heard me, blondie. I bet I can show him a lot more a good time than you can."

A small crowd had stopped dancing, and were watching the three in the corner. While they were not crowding around them yet, Ryou felt like as if they were ready to close in. He tried tugging on Marik's shirt.

"Marik - it's fine, really - I'm fine -"

"_Quiet._" Marik's hiss startled Ryou and Ryou found himself obeying instantly, standing against the wall obediently. Marik's eyes turned back onto Keith.

Keith was being an idiot again."Why so possessive?" he asked. "It's not like he's your boyfriend or anything."

Ryou's eyes widened, but Keith continued.

"If he ain't your boyfriend, I have all the freedom to make my move on him. It's a free country, you know."

Marik's eyes glittered silently. Suddenly, with swift force,he grabbed Ryou from the corner and held him tightly in his chest.

A smirk curled over Marik's lips.

_"He's mine."_

Immediately, Ryou felt his face flush red. He was too shocked and embarrassed to even think of fighting Marik off, whose grip Ryou found tight - ...but so comforting...

Bandit Keith growled. "What, your boyfriend?"

Marik's smirk became very smug in the darkness. He tightened his hold on Ryou and, without taking eyes off the bandit, directed Ryou's face to look at his with a swift finger.

"You could say that," Marik's smirk grew devious. "Wouldn't you say so, _Ryou_?"

Ryou's mouth fell open. Marik rolled his eyes briefly but covered up the other's terrible acting.

"What, don't believe me?" Marik asked Bandit Keith. He swooped out a hand; as though his under his command, the crowd separated, leaving a clear way for him and Ryou to the dance floor. Lights flickered over Marik's face, sparkling his amethyst eyes in the most deviant way possible. Bandit Keith growled, and took a step back. Marik's smirk turned into a small grin.

"Then let me show you ..."

With sudden force, Marik had grabbed Ryou's wrist, and began nearly dragging the other after him onto the dance floor. After him, Ryou's eyes widened considerably, before he gained his senses. He quickly regained his footing and wrenched his arm back - he did not break Marik's iron grip, though he did manage to stop the other. Marik paused, looking back with his unreadable lilac eyes. In the darkness of the disco, Ryou couldn't quite read those eyes- he was about to protest when Marik threw him into the bright lights of the dance floor. A second later, Ryou was smushed - pressed up tightly against the body of the other.

"Shall we dance?" Marik's voice asked, dripping in smirk.

Ryou furrowed his brows lightly under his bangs. Marik picked up one Ryou's hands and held it shoulder-height.

"I'm your _what?_" Ryou hissed. Marik tightened his grip on Ryou's wrist.

"You want that jackass to keep on harrassing you?" Marik hissed in Ryou's ear. Ryou stiffened and looked back at Keith through the corner of his eye.

"No..." he admitted reluctantly.

"_Then play along."_

Swiftly, Marik swooped Ryou to the side, his hand on the base of Ryou's spine. Ryou himself was having difficulties trying to keep up with the situation - Marik was dancing so quickly and skillfully, whilst Ryou was thankful that he didn't manage to stumble more than three times in a row. Unintentionally, he ended up leaning againt Marik a lot for support. Ryou wrinkled his nose.

"Do we _have _to dance?" he asked, looking up at Marik with his furrowed eyes. Marik snorted lightly.

"Don't pout, Ryou ...it doesn't become you."

"I'm not pouting!" Ryou protested. He rolled his eyes lightly. "Must you -"

"Listen," Marik took another quick turn and held Ryou tightly him, so that their faces were only inches apart. "You want that jerk harrassing you for the rest of tonight?"

Ryou frowned. "No..." he admitted, his voice a reluctant whisper.

"Then just play along with me." Marik turned them again. "I know jerks like him. They don't get it into their thick heads until you force it in them. And right now..."

Suddenly, Marik swooped Ryou in for a dip. Gasping, Ryou held on to Marik's shoulders for desperate life, his pelvis bumping against Marik's.

"...I have to convince him that _you're mine_."

After a second, Marik brought Ryou back up again.

Several hoots came from the growing crowd. Keith's smirk was gone and he was glaring at Ryou. Ryou awkwardly shifted in Marik's arms.

"He's still watching us..." Ryou noted quietly, as he let Marik guide him into dancing. Marik tightened his grip on Ryou's wrists, making the smaller one flinch. Big brown eyes shifted over to Marik.

"Well, you're not exactly the greatest actor in the world," Marik hissed sarcastically in Ryou's ear. Ryou winced again, starting to feel a little bit frustrated.

"Well what do you want me to do?" Ryou asked a little heatedly.

"You _could _look a little bit more in love with me, or something, you know?" Marik snapped back. "I'm trying to save your ass here without getting into a huge amount of trouble..."

"Why not?" Ryou retorted back. "The men I know would always use this as an excuse to get into a fight..."

Marik's grip on Ryou's wrist tightened to the point that Ryou thought it would snap. Ryou held back his wince of pain to try to look tough.

"_I'm not like other men,"_ Marik snarled under his breath.

Ryou nearly took a step back from the venom laced in Marik's voice, but he couldn't. The other held him too tightly. From the corner of his eye, Ryou saw Bandit Keith again ...

"HEY! BLONDIE! LOOKS LIKE THAT DELISCIOUS ASS DOESN'T WANT TO BE WITH YOU!"

"He's going to violate me if he has the chance, isn't he?" Ryou mumbled quietly. Marik wrenched Ryou farther from the bandit.

"Gee, you think so?" Marik asked sarcastically. Ryou finally lost his temper with the whole situation.

"Fine, you want convincing?"

"I don't need convincing, _he _needs convincing," Marik snarled, jerking his head to the bandit.

Keith couldn't take a hint.

"HEY BABY! YOU WANT TO TAKE COCK FROM A MAN LIKE THAT? I CAN SHOW YOU A GOOD TIME BABY!"

Ryou finally lost his patience.

"Leave me alone!" Ryou yelled back at the bandit. "I'm with _him!"_

Feeling pretty frustrated, Ryou temporarily lost his common sense, and suddenly wrenched his arms from Marik's hands. In a quick span of three seconds, Ryou's arms were now around Marik's neck...his hands were diving into Marik's hair, his fingers running along Marik's neck.

In the bright lights and darkness, Marik's eyes flashed an immediate amethyst. In an instant, he grabbed Ryou around the waist and crushed their bodies together. Ryou gasped but shut his eyes tightly, determined to get that jerk of a bandit away from violating him with his eyes.

Their legs danced, intertwined occasionally, their hands rubbing up and down each other's backs and hair. Throughout the whole thing, Ryou closed his eyes, pretending to be in a daze of utmost want and satisification. Everyone began cheering and hooting. Blushing furiously, Ryou tilted up his head, determined to get rid of that stupid bandit, and determined to show that jerk of an Egyptian dancing with him that he was no _bad-acting-baby_.

Ryou was pretty sure he was nuts to do this, but he couldn't think of any other way to throw the bandit off. Marik's hands were roving about in sequences Ryou wasn't sure they'd lead to. To distract Marik and to finally end this stupid mating competition, Ryou gathered his courage, and, blushing, lifted his head, and briefly brushed his lips against Marik's. He desperately hoped that if the other asked him any other questions after this, the touch would be so brief that Ryou could just shrug it off as an accident...

Well, apparently Marik didn't think that was an accident at all. Immediately, while the crowd went "OOOOooohhhh" Marik's mind went "BOOOM!" and in another span of three seconds, he had Ryou crushed against the bar. Roughly, Ryou was pushed onto a stool, his back arching over the bar table, lips locked, hands roving. In Ryou's mind, stars exploded something akin to this: "!!!!" and immediately he started trying to fight Marik off.

Marik noted the other's struggling, but he was pretty damn certain that this was no playacting. Those soft honey-vanilla lips and gentle hands were far too skilled to have been entirely innocent. Sure, they were naive, and sure they were sweet, but there was no hesitance in Ryou's skillful hands, no shivering of the fingers. Ryou may have never kissed another man before - single or not - but he must've touched _someone_ before.

Losing breath, Ryou ripped his mouth away from Marik's, panting deeply against the bar. The other drinkers had quickly sped away, leaving the two room to regain their breath. Marik was about to reach in for another kiss when Ryou put up one finger to stop him.

"What happened to..." A pant of breath. "...your personal...space?"

Marik's smirk grew. "In this circumstance, my dear Ryou, it's virtually non-existent."

"That's nice to know," Ryou gasped, gulping for breath. "But I still have my personal- HEY!"

A hand had just touched Ryou's bottom, squeezing it lightly. Immediately, Ryou jumped, but, calculative as Ryou was starting to realize he was, Marik swooped in on time, and pressed his lips in for another kiss.

Ryou wanted to spaz like crazy, but this kiss was a lot different than the first. The first had been hard, rough and hungry. This one was a lot more gentle, pressing lightly into his own lips, giving him a little wee-way to make his own decision. Against the soft lips of Marik, Ryou nipped a little on the bottom one in slight protest...Marik grunted in response.

"Thanks for molesting me," Ryou said unhappily. Marik chuckled and kissed Ryou's lips again, liking that taste of honey and vanilla more and more, with the faint dose of chocolate.

"My pleasure. After all, would you rather be molested by me or by that son of an asshole?"

Ryou grumbled but was silenced again with another gentle kiss. "Do you mind? I...I-umph..."

"Hush," Marik whispered, licking Ryou's lips lightly. He pressed his lips in a little tighter, feeling Ryou slowly responding towards him. He heard Ryou gasp slowly, his mouth easing open and his body relaxing. In went Marik's tongue, lightly meeting the other's, saying 'hi, how do you do', before slowly easing away.

In response, Ryou's breath grew slightly raggged as Marik pulled away. Dark brown eyes looked up at Marik with a mixture of ridiculity and annoyance. Marik chuckled and leaned in, his breath washing on Ryou's lips.

"How's that for play-acting..._hm_?"

Mouth falling open, Ryou gawked at Marik with an expression of utmost annoyance. He frowned at Marik who was merely a few inches away from him.

"You mean to tell me all that was just an _act_?"

"Anything to get that jerk away from you, hmn?"

Scoffing, Ryou rolled his eyes. "You're insane, do you know that?"

"I've been told that, yes, very frequently."

Despite himself Ryou laughed. He mock-frowned at Marik.

"I should really hate you for goosing me like that..."

"Aw, hate me for saving your life?"

Ryou blew his bangs out from his eyes with a puff of breath. "..."

Marik smirked. "I thought so." He slowly began to lean in for another kiss.

Ryou tried to lean away, but to no avail. "Marik..."

"Shhh..." Marik whispered, his lips slowly hovering over Ryou's. "Just be thankful that I saved your life..."

Sighing, Ryou slowly closed his eyes.

"I should hate you..."

"Everyone should..."

The lips slowly closed over Ryou's. Ryou released his breath, feeling oddly content in the back of his brain. His voice shivered lightly, as though shy and hesitant.

"Marik..."

"AH!!!!"

The scream jostled Ryou and Marik both out of their trances...Immediately, Ryou saw what someone had been screaming about. Right behind Marik, Bandit Keith was charging at Marik - with a chair in the air, aimed right at the Egyptian.

"MARIK!"

Immediately, Marik turned, but it was too late. The chair cracked across Marik's shoulder and head, throwing him across the dance floor. People started screaming and huddling against the wall. Some guys tried to come out and fight against Keith, but Keith was pretty menacing about his fights.

"BACK OFF!" he bellowed at them, brandishing his fists. "Anyone getting between me and him GETS IT, and gets it HARD, understand?!"

"Marik!" Ryou quickly scrambled from his barstool to run towards the fallen other - but Bandit Keith was faster than Ryou, and had grabbed him by the wrist.

"Ow!!"

"Get back there, bitch," Keith snarled, throwing Ryou back against the bar. With a cry of pain, Ryou hit the bar with his spine, collapsing raggedly on the barstool. "You fucking bi-"

_CRACK._

The crowd gasped and hissed in a deep breath of "ouuch". When Ryou straggledly got back onto his chair, he saw chaos happen in front of him. Marik, thought to be comatose, was up on his feet, and had struck Keith right across the jaw. The two now were fighting, aiming punches, dodging here and there. Ryou immediately sat up in his chair, worried.

"Marik!!"

_'I'm not like other men.'_ The voice rang in Ryou's head and slowly faltered. Ryou bit his lip. He remembered the vemon that had laced Marik's words, the tenseness of his hands, the power of his arms when he had held Ryou. Ryou took a step back, an expression of worry and pain crumpling across his face.

_Marik..._

Lighting fast and quick, Marik showed incredible skillmanship that Ryou never thought was possible. He dodged Keith, who was at least two times bigger, several times, quickly, swiftly, but powerful. He wasn't flexible, not at all, but he was calculating, he was cold. His amethyst eyes were glittering white, cold, furious white.

Ryou bit his lip again, following the fight back and forth as Marik and Keith continued to struggle. Keith, now getting very pissed off, charged at Marik like a bull. Marik, as though anticipating this, stepped to the side- a powerful tanned hand gripped the bandanna on the blond's head, grabbing some of the hair underneath. Snarling, Keith shot out another hand to wrench Marik's leg to unbalance him; Marik swiftly stepped to the side, crashing Keith's head against the floor as he did so. Ryou stood there, gaping, worrying.

Keith quickly pulled himself to his feet. "You want that bitch that badly, asshole?" he yelled at Marik. Marik's eyes narrowed dangerously and he said nothing. "FUCKING ANSWER ME, YOU DIRTY SON OF A BITCH!"

"Dirty?" Marik repeated finally, his eyes brightening something ferocious. "I would hardly call attack a man from behind _clean,_ you sorry excuse for a coward!!"

Lunging forward, Marik swiftly punched Keith in the gut. Yowling, Keith punched back, aiming at Marik's head; Marik blocked it with one arm, never even wincing. Growling, Keith spurred back and reared his hand back, catching Marik off-guard and plowing him in the face.

The crowd gasped and there were shrieks of agony heard from the bystanders. Marik turned to the side from the impact, his eyes closed. Ryou didn't hear himself cry out. The crowd waited anxiously in the next second to see what would happen - but then, suddenly a horrifying thing happened. Though Marik was obviously not going to attack yet, Keith still reared back his leg, and promptly-

-struck Marik in the crotch.

Immediately, Ryou cried out and shoved himself off his seat, hurrying towards Marik. A hand however, shot out at Ryou and grabbed him before he could help the other. He turned to see Mai behind him.

"Mai! Let go of me!! We have to do something to help him!"

Mai merely said nothing, her purple eyes serious.

"Mai! Come on!! We have to help him!"

"Our bouncer isn't here tonight," Mai said gravely, her eyes narrowing at Keith. "And he's caused trouble at other resturaunts...there's nothing we can do for Marik, unless we want to get killed too."

"I don't care!" Ryou demanded. He wrenched his arm from Mai and hurried to Marik. "MARIK! Marik!!"

"YOU!" Keith rounded on Ryou, spit at his mouth. "Stay out of this, bitch!"

Stilling, Ryou froze, glaring at Keith angrily. His fists clenched.

"Stay away from Marik!"

"Yeah? Yeah?" Keith demanded, striding past Marik, who was on his knees on the floor. "What are you going to do about it, bitch? You going to take me on, bitch? How about I throw you over a table and fuck you now, in front of everyone, bitch?"

Ryou couldn't move. He was trembling in a mixture of fear and anger. His mouth went dry. Keith was gaining ground - his arm was raised to hit Ryou too.

"Eat shit, you son of a -"

Suddenly, Keith was stopped. A hand shot out of nowhere and had grabbed his wrist. Behind him, Marik was standing, his purple eyes flashing dangerously and his face dark and omnious. His knees were slightly bent, probably from the force of the attack on his manhood - if one looked closely, they could see his hand gripping a nearby chair so hard that it shook.

But Marik didn't give up.

_I'm not like other men._

A wicked smirk curled over Marik's face.

"Coward."

Without another word, Marik had struck Keith right across the face. Grabbing the larger blond's collar, Marik continued to punch Keith in the face, kneeing him in the stomach, pounding him left right and center. Finally, Marik grabbed a painful handful of Keith's hair, and with powerful force, crashed him into a nearby table.

He pinned the large bully onto the table, arms wrenched behind his back. For good measure, he wacked Keith hard in the shoulder, to make sure the other wouldn't get any ideas of fighting back soon. Keith began to panic.

"Okay! Okay! Have it your way! I give up!!"

Marik's smirk turned into a terrible, disgusted snarl. For good measure, he forced Keith's head against the table so the bully wouldn't writhe around to regain balance. Keith groaned and begged uncle some more.

For final good measure, as Marik held Keith down, he slammed his fist into the table. Then, just to scare the rest of the coward out of Keith, Marik bent down, and whispered in Keith's ear.

"_Don't. Mess. With the package."_

Finished, Marik threw Keith into the table, dusting off his hands. The crowd, previously on edge, cheered for Marik, and several men came to help dispose of Keith. Though limping slightly, Marik turned to Ryou anyways, his dark eyes hard.

"..."

Ryou too, finally snapped out of his trance. Anger melting away from his face, Ryou hurried towards Marik, his eyes relieved. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around Marik's neck in a tight embrace.

"Oh, Marik...you're alright..."

A dry snicker was heard.

"If you could call being kicked in the crotch alright..."

They pulled back a little bit. Ryou looked up, his face melting in relief.

Marik smirked. "Don't hate me anymore?"

Ryou sighed, shaking his head. He gave Marik a hug.

"Alright...we're even."

Chuckling, Marik went to return Ryou's embrace. However, before he could do anything, Ryou's shout cut through the air.

"Marik-! He's got a knife-!"

Throwing Ryou back, Marik swiftly turned around. Keith was up again, though his face was swelling and his hair was wrecked, his sunglasses broken, he was charging at Marik with hatred in his eyes - and a knife in his hand.

"Marik! The knife-"

The knife came down on Marik's face; he follwed its path, turning his head to the side. However, faster than anyone can catch, his hands also followed Keith - with a chair in hand.

The chair followed the arc of the knife and Marik's face, hitting Keith across the torso with so much force that the bigger blond went flying and the chair went snapping. As Keith slowly flew through the air, Marik's hand came up, swiftly grabbing the knife from Keith's hand, the chair splintering into many bits. In the next second, Keith had crashed into another table, breaking it in half, before crashing to the floor, sliding into the wall and debris. There, he laid still.

Totally calm, Marik looked down at the knife in his hand, as well as the pieces of woods. He let them go, except for the knife, the splinters shredding from his hands onto the floor.

"Well." Marik flipped the knife up in the air, and caught it by the flat side of the blade by his finger and thumb. "That was a waste of a perfectly good chair."

He flipped the knife back in the air again, before lodging it into a great piece of broken wood from the snapped table. He turned back.

"Marik!" Ryou gasped. He quickly hurried to the taller one. "You're hurt..."

Indeed, Marik's previously flawless cheek was now sporting a thin line of blood. Forgetting 'personal space', Ryou rushed foward with a kleenex to wipe it away - except Marik stopped him.

"Hn." Marik slowly raised a finger to wipe away the blood. He didn't wince once. After a second of looking at it, as though analyzing it, he licked his finger free of blood. His amethyst eyes turned back to Ryou.

"I'm fine."

Hands dropping, Ryou sighed and shook his head. "All the same - a band-aid..."

"Boys."

The two men cut their conversation and turned around. Mai was looking at them, lips pursed, her eyes grave. "Sorry to break this little reunion, but you two better head fast out of here. The police are coming."

"The police?" Marik repeated, his voice flat and stiff. Ryou looked between them, eyes troubled. Mai stepped up towards them and nudged her head in the direction of the door.

"Ishtar..."

Marik said nothing. He briefly looked back at the crowd of men and women around Keith; some were checking to make sure the damage wasn't bad. Marik turned to look back at Mai.

Amethyst eyes met deep purple. The two of them tempoarily gazed at each other understandingly, eyes reading one another's as though in a different language entirely of their own. When Mai finally turned away, unable to hold her gaze against Marik's any longer, Marik curtly stepped away. Without a word, he grabbed Ryou's wrist in one hand, his jacket and keys in the other, and the two of them headed towards the entrance. Mai watched silently as they left without another word.

Her eyes dropped a little, gazing at something far away. The sound of the door shutting echoed in her head.

_"Hm? Now what on earth do we have here?"_

_Wide eyes looked up at her. They remained on her face for several long seconds, before trailing along the sight of her collarbone, milky white, to the supple exposure of her round, slightly-bared breasts. A smug chuckle resonated in the midst as she did up another button to avert his gaze. "You looking for something, dear? 'Cause we don't tolerate stealing around here."_

_Amethyst eyes narrowed, but the 'boy' remained silent. _

_A smirk slid across her face. "Get your hands out of the cash register, honey."_

_Those same amethyst eyes narrowed pretty sharply. But she held her cool. She made it this far in the game, no point losing it now. She was the only one left in the resturaunt now, after all._

_The 'boy', tall, slim, with crazy, dirty blond hair, calmly looked away from her gaze. His hand wrapped around the bills and slowly took them out, as though silently mocking her with them. Her eyes narrowed and she toook a step forward._

_"Watch it, bastard..."_

_"I don't think you're in much of a position to do anything," the 'boy' finally said, his voice hard and cold. She stopped, but didn't falter. _

_"Listen, buddy..."_

_Suddenly, a cold hand closed upon her shoulder and she looked around. A dark, tall, and burly figure of some insignificant man jeered over her. Alcahol laced his breath and his unshaven jaw was locked in a lustful grin._

_She winced and tried to shove him off her. Apparently she hadn't been the only person left in the resturaunt._

_"Come here, bitch...cooome here and show me shum goooood time..."_

_"Get off of me, you bastard!!" She tried to throw her whole weight into the smack. The man grabbed her wrist, his hand nearly five times bigger than hers. "Let go of me -"_

_"Puurrrrttty tits you got there," he sluurred, "you're a waitress, ain't ya...? Why don't you come and service me toooo for some extra tippppss...?"_

_She looked over her shoulder frantically. The boy at the cash register had disappeared. She cursed and tried to kick her aggressor in the crotch._

_"Noottttttt niiiice," the shadow smirked, "I'm going to get me some tasty tid-bit-Tits..."_

_She struggled valaintly but to no avail, and was shoved onto the floor. Breath compressing weight forced the air out of her lungs. Trying the best she could before the hand clapsed over her mouth, she closed her eyes and sceamed..._

_"FUCK OFF!"_

_SMACK._

_The man lurched to the side, not registering what had happened. A chair came down at his side. As he lurched to the side, she quickly scrambled away from him. Above her agressor, she saw that same boy at the register, amethyst eyes dark and cold, his expression never wavering as he cracked his fists time and time again across the agressor's body. His long, lean legs came out and embedded deep into the massive guts several times, before changing tatics and punching the lump of greedy shadow several times into the wall. Mai watched in detached fascination as this boy - no, teenager, nearly a man, beat the bloody mucus out of her miserable agressor, never once flinching as blood began to spatter._

_The heavy lump of guts finally slumped onto the floor, unconscious. Mai got to her feet, shaking a little. The male slowly stood up too, slowly looking at her. Mai took a step back. _

_Blook was flecked across his face. He didn't do anything about it._

_He slowly straightened up. In the dim light of the bar, Mai could make out the features on face. Despite the blood, the first thing Mai thought was that he was very handsome- looking...he had an air of mystery and darkness that could draw any woman towards him. His body was tall and finely built, and his stance was firm and confident. But when Mai looked closer, she could see the sublties that changed his whole demeanor - the dirty hands, the slightly ripped shirt, he way he tried to dress properly, but obviously couldn't afford it. His skin looked slightly pale from malnutrition, as though he didn't eat enough meat and couldn't find the essential nutrients in other foods._

_If only he had a decent shirt, some designer pants, and add some golden jewerly to his gorgeous self, he'd look like an Egyptian sex god, Mai thought to herself. She slowly stood straight._

_Their purple eyes locked onto each other. His read hers and hers read his. She had too much pride to say thank you, at least out loud. She remained as she was, stubborn not to let him realize that she was genuinely thankful that he saved her life._

_She took a step back, and, judging on the hollow clacking, knew that the register was still empty. In the distance, sirens wailed. The boy - teen- man?...didn't move._

_She silently sighed to herself, her eyes never leaving his. A smirk slowly crept across his face. He understood. She understood. _

_"Go." She said simply. She waved her hand at him. "Get out of here, you jerk! Get out of here while you still have time."_

_His smirk didn't leave. He slowly turned around, back towards her, though his eyes remained gazing back at her. Finally breaking contact, he started out the back door._

_"Wait!"_

_He stopped. He turned around. Mai clenched her fists, unsure of what had come over her._

_But she, like him, knew the rules of the underworld they both lived in. She, like him, knew what drove him to steal from that cash register that night, yet still help her when she was in greatest need._

_She sighed again, but gazed firmly into his eyes._

_"...I'm Mai."_

_His eyes glittered for a moment, before his smirk turned smug. She listened distant as she watched those lips finally curve along every word, caress every sound with that deep, low voice._

_He had just matured, Mai thought, hearing that voice. It's deep and it's low, but he's not a man yet. He's still growing. He can't be any older than nineteen, or even eighteen. He's still young._

_"...Marik."_

_The back door swung behind him as he left._

* * *

11:00 PM

Motorbike Ride

Adeline Road

Marik Ishtar and Ryou Bakura

It was a long journey back home. Clinging to the waist of Marik, Ryou was resting his head against the leather-clad back of the other, who was driving his motorbike through the dark streets. Ryou watched dimly, silently as avenues of oak trees flew by, and streetlamps flashing slowly in the distance. Everytime under each orange glow, Ryou would sigh silently to himself - an inward sigh, a sigh never to be heard.

It was raining too.

The streets were wet and soaking. Marik, in his leather, was drenched to the skin. Ryou, in his sweater, was even more soaked to the skin. He kept on shivering occasionally against Marik, but Marik either didn't notice or didn't care. Ryou gripped harder around the other's waist.

_Bummer, _Ryou thought to himself. _Your first outing out with another companion and you blew it up. Couldn't dance, got him into a barfight, and got him soaking wet in the rain. Great. Bloody dandy._

They slowly circled into a desolate neighborhood. Ryou faintly read the sign-post as they turned.

_Victoria Cresent._

_Hmn, lovely,_ Ryou thought detachedly as he slowly closed his eyes, letting the rain slide off his cheeks. _We're almost near home...good timing too..it's almost twelve. _

The motorbike was the only sound in the silence.

Sighing, Ryou felt himself lulling in a dull sleep. He tiredly tightened his grip on Marik's waist.

_He feels...so much like him. ...I wonder if they're friends?_

The bike slowly turned another corner.

_Dark, tanned skin. Egyptian heritage. Strong, muscular, and powerful. _Ryou smiled dreamily._Those years were the best years of my life...feeling content, feeling safe- ...having someone finally take care of me, and not the other way around. _

Ryou sighed softly.

_It felt so good to trust someone..._

A deep, unsettling feeling twisted his gut. Ryou grimaced.

_You're a terrible person to even think of them together like that..._

Ryou sighed again and tried to relax his face. He felt the motorbike slowly arrive to a stop.

Sleepily, Ryou opened his eyes. Before him, stood his apartement building. It was homely place, looking more like a large house than an apartment building. It was red-bricked and had friendly windows, with flowered curtains and potted ones sitting outside. The lawn, though wet now, was immaculate and dark green. Tulips and petunias gardened the edge of the house/apartment building.

Slowly, Ryou tried to detach himself from Marik. Somehow, he couldn't seem to do it. He felt Marik snort.

"As much as I like you clinging onto me," said Marik, "I'd rather not catch pneumonia."

Ryou quickly released his grip and clumsily got off the bike. He gathered his bag and keys, draping them over his wet frame. Marik, distracted and tired from the long night, stretched absent-mindedly and looked off into the distance.

Quietly, Ryou finished fishing for his things, discreetly watching Marik out from the corner of his eye.

_He's not like other men..._

Ryou looked down at his feet. _I wonder...why he didn't stay around for the police to come. They would've helped...wouldn't they?_

He looked back up at Marik. Marik was still looking away from him. Ryou felt uneasy.

_But then again...I got him into this mess..._Sighing, Ryou tucked his key into his pocket. _...I shouldn't question him and his decisions._

"...Thank you," Ryou finally said sincerley. He paused, standing there, in front of Marik. "...You know; for taking me home, for dinner..."

Marik arched a single golden eyebrow, turning around to face the smaller one, but it disappeared into his bangs. His amethyst eyes were unreadable. Ryou sighed finally.

"And...thank you," Ryou's hands fell from their clapsed grip on one another. "...For...saving me tonight." He looked up at Marik straight in the eye, and smiled softly. "I wouldn't have wanted to...spend the rest of my night with ...him instead..."

Here, Marik made a snort. He looked away derisively.

"That man was an idiot," Marik said simply. "All brawn, no brain. All cock, no control."

Ryou's gentle smile didn't fade. "Yeah." He lowered his eyes from Marik's, and his fingers slowly intertwined back into a soft clasp. The rain poured down among them, softly, soaking Ryou slowly. His white hair began to sag, becoming straight and shiny. Marik too, shone - his leather twinkled in the glow of the streetlamp, his bike shimmered from the rain. While Marik wasn't looking, Ryou decided that he liked shiny things.

"Anyways," Ryou slowly pulled his hands away from one another to his sides. "...Thanks," he said. His brown eyes turned back up to meet Marik's, who had turned around. Marik merely stared back at them, unreadable, unfathomable. Those amethyst eyes merely stared at him with a sort of distant intensity - as though they were not looking at Ryou, but looking _through_ him...through at him something so much deeper.

Ryou's soft smile fell a little.

_Do you remember the last time someone helped you...?_

Ryou lowered his head. Rain slithered down his hair and face.

_When someone protected you from something as scary as that?_

The droplets of rain slid down to Ryou's arm. They formed their way down his clenched hands.

_You gave them a hug, remember? Hugged them, held them...just because you wanted every soft little comfort that you could get._

His front bangs shielded his eyes. His fists trembled.

_Only to be used...only to be told ..._

A soft hand briefly touched his arm. Ryou snapped his eyes open, raindrops trickling down his face as he stared up at Marik. The older one still had that intense gaze upon him, his face blank, his expression void. Instinctively, Ryou felt his heart lurch forwards - but he took a step back instead, tearing his arm away from Marik, as though the other's touch had burned.

_'No...'_

Ryou suddenly realized his subsoncious mistake. He quickly stuffed the hand of the arm that Marik had touched into his pocket. He pretended to be fumbling around for his keys, though his eyes never left Marik's locked gaze.

"...Thank you," Ryou repeated again, though his voice this time was distant, as though he was only saying 'thank-you' as a means of saying anything... His fingers closed upon the cold metal of his key. "...If there's...anything I could ever do to repay you..."

Marik's eyes briefly shimmered something, but Ryou couldn't tell what it was. His fingers gripped his key tightly, feeling the sharp ridges along his flesh. He fondled the metal subconsciously, anxiously ...as Marik slowly got off his bike, and took a step towards Ryou.

In the darkness and in the rain, Ryou felt utterly immobile. He could only stare - lose himself- into Marik's eyes, as that strong, tanned hand came up to his cheek. That same tanned hand brushed away a feather of his hair - tucking it over his ear, clearing away the rain. Ryou watched, distantly trying to figure out those lilac depths -...that hand floated from his air, and slid under his chin. Its grip was firm but not frightening, its pull dominating but not threatening. Ryou took a step forward, almost falling after Marik's powerful pull.

A soft thumb brushed Ryou's lips.

"I'm pretty sure I can think of something," Marik's voice breathed. Ryou's lungs paused. "That is...if you really want to repay me..."

A sad part of Ryou's brain, to his shame, wanted to say yes.

_Don't fall back...don't fall for the same trick again..._

Ryou didn't even notice his lips being drawn to Marik's. He didn't even realize he was that close to shutting his eyes.

"...Yes," Ryou whispered. _No, _Ryou whispered. _Don't pull me back the same way that they did...that he did..._

Marik's thumb stroked the soft, wet lips of the smaller one. His own lips floated downwards, merely a finger's placement away.

"Then..." The thumb stroked under the lips, and slid to the side of the jaw. "...You owe me a kiss."

Having nearly closed, Ryou's eyes fluttered open. The purple eyes were now glinting lightly in the streetlight. A small smirk curled across the handsome face.

Almost mirroring the other, Ryou's face also broke into a soft smile. The hand on his jaw left his side; the taller male took a step back.

"Not tonight," Marik's voice smirked, far away in Ryou's mind. Ryou found himself nodding, the back of his mind heavy with shame.

"...Personal space and all that jazz?" Ryou asked quietly. Marik's smirk widened, it registered in Ryou's mind waveringly, like ripples in a watery lake.

"Hmn hn," Marik's voice floated. The hand left Ryou's general vicinity altogether, leaving him feeling strangely chilly. His arms wrapped around one another unconsciously for the warmth that had just left. Marik noticed this and when his voice spoke again, it had lost all its distance and renosance...now it radiated a command, a stern command.

"Go inside," Marik's deep voice said. Ryou snapped out of his trance and looked at Marik with big, brown eyes. "Get inside. It's freezing out."

As though suddenly remembering that there was rain, Ryou looked up, his eyes widening at the little droplets on his face. Panic flickered across his face.

"Oh my goodness-"

Marik snorted, but his smirk was evident. "Get inside."

Ryou hastily looked back to Marik. "I'm sorry, I - "

"Save your debt for later." Marik sat back on his bike, saddling it. "Get inside."

After blinking a few times at Marik, Ryou slowly broke into a smile. Laughing softly, he nodded at Marik understandingly, and then turned around to head inside his building.

"...Goodnight," Ryou called, as he slid his key into the door. The key felt warm from all his gripping.

A rev of the engine was his answer. Ryou turned briefly to see Marik waving at him with a short flick of his hand. Ryou smiled lightly, his hair dripping with raindroplets.

He watched as Marik revved the engine, and skillfully turned that motorbike around, heading in the other direction. Sighing softly, Ryou brushed back his wet hair, before slowly closing the door.

* * *

A/N: That took me a while, but I was having a bit of a writer's block with their characters. I had no idea waht the heck I was doing with malik and Bakura other that setting up plot - but the character development there was iffy. And I don't know...I don't like how Ryou turned out in his chapter, but it was my attempt to make him a little tougher, and to throw in that random wrench that makes Ryou not the usual 'naive and innocent' Ryou everyone knows. He's twenty -something, I'm pretty sure he'll know some guy things by now. ...I hope.

Marik was a pain to write. I am so glad I didn't add Touzoku in this or else Touzoku would've blown me up like poof.

Anyways, please read and review!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-AL


	8. Chapter 8

I gotta work on start making Ryou less feminine. Well..I think he gets more manly as the story progresses...at least he gets angstier. Oo

I felt bad that I couldn't update at least once more before hiatus, or at least partial hiatus, usually hiatus just means I don't update for a really long time but I still try my best to. –sighs- Anyways, this was eight pages long, I didn't write it recently as it was intended for a future chapter. But for now, MalikxBakura!

The next chapter of Ryou and Marik is still in the works, as it is much longer and a bit more complex.

"I must not chase the boys" –lyrics altered slightly but it is the song from 'Play'. Don't own it.

Please read and review!

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

**10:30 AM, Saturday**

**Room 517**

**Staff Dormitories - History Department**

**(very tired) Malik Ishtal**

It was a bright and early morning, the kind that Malik liked the most. He stretched, not moody at all from being awakened from the bright rays that penetrated his room. He liked the sun, after all. Better to be warm and bright and sunny than to be cooped up miserably in a dark labyrinth for all eternity.

He groggily got up, shuffling in his light lavender pajamas. (They were decorated with darker purple ankhs, his favourite.) His one-room / living room/ bachelor suite was a total mess - a CD rack stood in the corner, when really, all the CDs were on the floor, scattered about. A small TV stood in front of the bed, but it was overshadowed by the super-big-massive sound system that had a tray to play five CDs, two cassette players beneath, incredible sound quality from the radio, and booming speakers that amplified at so many kilowatts per something. Basic idea was, Malik had a kick-ass stereo system.

He also had a karaoke machine. That stood on top of the stereo machine. Ryou had often noted how precarious it looked and insisted Malik change the feng-shui of it all in case it one day fall off and break Malik's neck.

But Malik liked his karaoke machine. And he liked it with his CD player. Then he could play all the songs he wanted - even when the karaoke machine didn't have it.

Rubbing his eyes, Malik shuffled his way into the kitchen. The wall between the kitchen and the living room had a wide window in it, so anyone from the kitchen could see whoever was in the living room. Yawning, Malik found some bread and shoved them in the toaster, before finding the butter. He slumped onto his kitchen table, a small thing from IKEA. Malik liked that guy who did the IKEA commercials. He was funny. Malik even had the porcelain cow from the commercials. Whenever Ryou questioned it, Malik assured it serverd a very valuable purpose: whenever it crashed, it was a sign of Malik's victory - he was making out on the table, just like in the commercial.

The little porcelain cow hadn't crashed in a while.

While waiting for the toast, Malik shuffled back into the living room, where his laptop was standing on a small desk under the window. Malik flicked it open and ran a hand through his messy blond hair, checking his e-mail.

YOU'VE. GOT. MAIL.

Malik clicked on the flashing little envelope.

_Junk,_ Malik thought to himself, scrolling through his latest inbox. _Junk, junk junk..._

Among all the junk, Malik found one from the Historical Gala from last night. He clicked it open and scanned through it. Attached was the music sheet from last night's performance, and an compressed file that described the historical investigation Malik was required to do. Malik sighed. French history was not his best area, but since he was asked to do, he may as well.

Suddenly a little twinkling sound came from his speakers. A flashing envelope blinked up at him.

NEW MAIL.

With surprise, Malik opened the new e-mail What he saw made his breath stop.

_Sender: B.akako (at) m.ishtal (at) Historical Gala_

_Breathe,_ Malik told himself. Immediately, staring at the name, it brought tendrils of musical whispers to his ear. He shook himself off and scrolled down the screen determinedly.

_Ishtal –san._

_As you probably have not forgotten, I am your appointed partner, Bakura Akako. Yoroshiku. (A pleasure to meet you.)_

_To be succinct, I am a very – if not a little impatient –busy man, and as I have recently received the French works and have looked them over, it will take a while to recompose and research the piece, and I would like to get it down as soon as possible._

_I will be in the music room at 4:00PM sharp. _

_A.KA.KO._

Though quite polite in essence, there was no hiding the obvious command that it ordered. 4:00PM. Sharp. Don't-mess-with-impatiently-busy-Bakura-Akako. 'Else he bite you, that vampiric demon.

After skimming down the e-mail, whatever musical fantasy that had been floating in Malik's ear was rudely shredded away. He scowled at the screen and closed the browser without even logging out.

_The nerve of him, _Malik grunted as he shoved away from the desk and got up. _Imagine. Not even asking my consent – or whether or not I'm busy, or anything like that – that arrogant, cocky bastard!_

_I should just ignore him, _Malik smiled to himself. _See how he takes that._

But something in Malik knew that he probably wouldn't be able to ignore the musician. And it was this nagging feeling – this twinge of curiosity that made him look back to his computer.

He stared at it for a while. The wallpaper had once sprawled a happy image between two blonds. A music player was open and various soft pop and rock were playing.

But the wallpaper was now an empty lavender, and the music player only bore sad and depressing music. Malik sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

And deep within him, something wanted to go and see that musician one more time.

And it was this twinge that forced Malik, rather reluctantly, to run back to the computer and print out the French documents.

* * *

**4:00PM, Saturday Afternoon**

**Music Hallway.**

**Malik Ishtal**

Lacking its usual buster and business, the school felt very empty. Slow footsteps echoed in the coolness of the halls, each step sounding more lonesome in the vast resonance of the halls.

Slowly, Malik walked down the hallway. He had never been to his part of the school. For so long, he had kept just to himself - himself and his companions in the History department...and of course, Ryou. For the longest time, he hadn't felt the urge to befriend someone new - to be with someone new. Both he and Ryou had been such good friends for so long that any type of significant other simply didn't seem...significant anymore.

Then again, Ryou didn't know..._all _the details of Malik's life...

For whatever reason, Malik couldn't get that voice out of his head. Even on his way from his dorm to the hall, he kept on telling himself that this - feeling - would go away soon, that it was just pure interest and nothing else.

This was business after all, but the feeling didn't quite go away.

This feeling of - this needing - to be… _attached_, to get closer. Every moment his mind wandered, it would remember the cool aura of the musician, the smooth presence, the silvery hair that flickered in the darkness. Even worse, that voice remained in Malik's head - not even when it sang. It remained, even in its cold, sarcastic demeanor, even from its rudeness from the e-mail. But there was something velvety about that voice that didn't want to quit echoing in Malik's head. Something so distant, so detached, so dreamy.

Something truly artistic...

Malik stopped and clenched his fists. He fell against the wall, his suit jacket hanging open slightly as he gazed up at the ceiling. He gripped the documents hard in his hands.

_Why is this happening to me?_

He sighed and closed his eyes.

_Won't someone tell me what has happened to me?_

A certain other voice rang in his head from so many years ago. Blond hair briefly flashed through his eyes - blond hair and beautiful, energetic brown eyes. That energetic smile.

Malik muffled a sniffle.

_Or am I so misunderstood...  
Why can't they see?_

Distractedly, Malik fingered his gold armbands under his sleeve jackets. Though he never showed it to anybody, he too, had a special pendant - that silver chain, that little golden lock. On the back, read the name of his former lover...

_  
__Now I'm caught between the devil and the angel  
That I used to be_

Malik sighed again. Raggedly, he got off the wall, his head bowed and tired.

He remembered those shattering words of 'advice'. He remembered how _he _tried to teach him - the prejudice, the hatred against people like them. He remembered how _he_ tried to explain - that in order to live in a society like this - they had to act, they had to pretend, they had to go against Malik, for the longest time, believed was right.

_They say I'll understand all in good time  
But age ain't nothing but a number in my mind._

Malik didn't understand. He still didn't understand. Regardless of any type of prejudice, what type of hatred could possibly drive _him_ into the arms of another?

"_You'll understand_," Malik repeated hollowly. "Understand what, Jyo? You just left me...just left me like that. What was I supposed to think? I know no one likes us for who we really are...but why would it have mattered? As long as we had each other?"

_I'm goin' crazy with this push me- pull me_

Clenching his fists again, Malik gritted his teeth. His blond bangs fell into his eyes.

_Caught between..._

"What was wrong with it...?"

His lavender eyes slowly opened. Faintly, they shimmered with tears.

"What was wrong...with our love?"

_Wrong and right._

Weakly, Malik opened his eyes. Just a few feet away, the band room doors stared back at him. They were closed, but Malik could imagine what was behind those doors - a shadow, a marvelous shadow - someone that Malik wanted so badly to know, to get to know, to understand, to be near.

_I wanna give in to the man in me  
I wanna be someone they don't want me to be  
The moral of the story is I got no choice.._

Malik's shoulders sagged. "...I don't want to pretend," Malik whispered. "But I have no choice..."

_  
__I must not chase the boys._

That hollow, cold, cavernous room. A mattress for a bed. A few boxes for a kitchen table. The wallpaper were peeling, there were cracks scaling the walls. A heater stood in the corner, clanking.

In the middle of this miserable room, Malik was on fire. A purple tank top, ripped, hung from his chest. His wrists were covered in gold bracelets and black bands, studded with metal spikes. A mike stood in front of him; his legs were parted, embracing the pole bracing the mike; his pants were hanging from his hips, hugging his thighs ever so tightly. His blond hair flew in the air lightly as he bobbed his head to the music. His gloved hands twirled a small, cracked pencil.

_I started writing down my deepest secrets  
Seven days a week of truth and fantasy_

Behind him, Jyo was crashing his head to the music - he ran his fingers crazily down the guitar. Malik vocalized lazily and scrawled a line of lyrics on the scratched walls.

Smiling for no reason, Malik left the wall, staring at his messy lyrics. Even this memory - nearly a dream, felt detached. As though, even though he had only been sixteen - seventeen - he knew something had been up, that something was coming.

The rejection was coming.

Even though he didn't understand entirely...maybe at some point, Malik knew it was going to happen. Things like that never ended happily ever after.

_Got the feelin' that the way my life is  
Got to be prepared for changes_

Reality surged back. Wooden frames and light yellow walls stared back at him. The granite floor shone below his feet. The band room doors beckoned to him. Malik's shoulders sagged, as though almost exhausted. A watery image of that faint, strange shadow rippled before him - as though a ghost of that beautiful musician was walking towards him.

Malik groaned and held his head sadly. "I must be nuts..." he whispered to himself. "This is...just borderline...obsessive." He re-directed his lavender eyes back at the doors. "...What's happening to me?"

He clenched his fists again and bowed his head. His legs trembled, as though straining to leap at those doors.

_Maybe we can be friends, _Malik thought desperately. _But you know that you want just a little more than that - as wrong as it is..._

Malik closed his eyes again. He tried to bite his lip to keep in that little sniffle that threatened to break free.

_Won't someone tell me what has happened to me?  
Or am I so misunderstood why can't they see?_

"_Big sister..."_ In the back of his mind, his childish version echoed that scared little whine. He had left everything...his older sister, his older brother...Isis, Rishid...for someone that - that he thought had been worth it. He had changed sides. From the innocent little brother to the abomination of mankind he was now.

_Now I'm caught between the devil and the angel  
That I used to be_

Rock music. It surged through his ears. Malik cried out and covered his ears tightly. That room kept flashing back, taunting him. He was flinging his hair back and forth, his lips nearly carressing the mike. His hands made love as they tenderly stroked down the pole of the microphone, gripping it here, pressing it there, stroking it there.

His voice echoed, vocalizing, at its loudest and most powerful. HIs eyes were closed - shut - tightly, passionately. HIs hair flung back and forth along with his voice, his fingers, the thrust of his hips.

_I wanna give in to the man in me!!  
I wanna be someone they don't want me to be!!_

In reality, Malik was gripping his hair. That terrible truth was going to ring in his head, and he knew it. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear Jyo say it.

_The moral of the story is I got no choice  
I must not chase__  
_

In his memory, his head was flinging from side to side. In reality, he was staring down the hallway, noticing the two corners - he could go left, he could go right, or he could go straight.

Straight?...Into that band room...?

_  
I wanna go left but they tell me go right!!!  
Don't wanna be the little boy they're kissin' goodnight!  
The moral of the story is I got no choice...  
__**I must not chase the boys.**  
_

Malik raggedly got to his feet again. His hand gripped the folder of musical sheets - his only excuse to see that musician again.

_They can try to make me write a thousand lines  
But that won't ever change the way I feel inside._

He took a step forward. He tried to ignore the voice of Jyo in the back of his head...

_They've got their opinions but I just don't care  
Cause that's __**not **__what __**I wanna hear.**_

He took another step forward. As though on adrenaline, they began to quicken their pace, without his acknowledgement. The yellow walls flew by him in a blur. His mind echoed that terrible mantra that he didn't want to remember.

The door approached with each chant.

_I, I must, I must not chase the boys._

Closer.

_I must, I must, I must __**not**_

Malik skidded to a stop. As though seeing it for the first time, he raised his head to the thick oak doors. His eyes fell upon the gold nameplate on its front.

_**chase**_

BAKURA AKAKO.

_**the boys.**__  
_

His hands trembling, Malik threw his head up to the ceiling, as though renouncing his whole soul. The folder nearly flew from his hands, but he didn't care. The music blared in the back of his head, but he embraced it this time.

The voice of Jyo slowly faded...

_I wanna give in to the man in me!!!  
I wanna be someone they don't want me to be!!!  
The moral of the story is I got no choice!  
I must not chase ..._

He closed his eyes, his voice inaudible to the empty hallway, but echoing passionately, loudly, powerful in the recess of his mind.

_**I wanna go left but they tell me go right!!!!  
Don't wanna be the little boy they're kissin' goodnight!!!  
The moral of the story is I got **__**no choice!**_

Taking a deep breath, Malik reached out a hand towards the handle.

_**I must not chase...**_

His fingers slipped. The door opened on its own.

Malik's mouth fell open.

_**...the boys.**_

Before him, wearing a white work shirt and tight black pants, stood Bakura Akako.

* * *

screw plot chapters to bridge the gaps. I heading right into plot.

**PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! **


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